


Toy Soldiers

by Thei



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: (no major characters though), (none of them die though), Gen, Hostage Situations, Toy Soldiers AU, and have them come out of those situations okay, armed men threatening kids, flo is awesome, hawkins is a fancy boarding school, i like putting my faves in dangerous situations, not-friends to allies to at-least-friends, some people's deaths are mentioned, subtle hints of abuse, teens getting hurt left and right!, there are terrorists, tommy and carol's love is true
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-06 22:17:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 58,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18226130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thei/pseuds/Thei
Summary: Hawkins Academy is a boarding school, which is one day overtaken by heavily armed men with an agenda.On the outside, headmaster Jim Hopper has to work alongside the police, the FBI and the military to bring about a peaceful end to the situation. On the inside, Billy, Steve and the kids come up with a plan to help bring the bad guys down and save everyone.(Basically 75% the plot of the 1991 movie Toy Soldiers, but with the Stranger Things characters.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I really like the movie Toy Soliders, because it’s fun and action-packed and has great characters. I ALSO really like Stranger Things, and one day I woke up with the urge to read a Stranger Things Toy Soldiers AU. As it was VERY UNLIKELY that someone else would feel like writing that particular fic, I had to do it myself.
> 
> This is at least 97% self-indulgent writing. I wrote it because I, personally, wanted to read it. If you like it, then that’s good, but I wrote it for myself. And if you’ve seen the movie, then you’ll see that some parts and dialogues are basically copied from it, while other parts have changed a lot. Just roll with it. It's for fun.
> 
> Also, In the original movie, the main character’s name is actually Billy, and he’s played by Sean Astin (Bob!), and that is HILARIOUS to me. And I’m not saying you must have watched Toy Soldiers before reading this fic, but I AM saying that you should have watched Toy Soldiers IN GENERAL because it’s fucking awesome.

Bob had a good job, an easy job. He liked what he was doing, too; he got to meet a lot of people and he knew what was expected of him. He spent his days guarding the gate to Hawkins Academy, and made sure that no students snuck out and that no one who wasn’t expected snuck in. Sometimes, though, his job was more of a challenge than he’d signed up for. Like now, when someone – no, three someones – came up to the gate from the direction of the town. Bob sighed when he saw who it was. He was certain he hadn’t let them out in the first place.

“Hi Bob”, the girl – Carol – said, and Bob shook his head.

“What are you three doing out? You know you’re not supposed to leave the premises without a valid excuse.”

“We have a valid excuse”, the dark-haired boy said, and grinned at the blond boy next to him.

“Yeah”, the blond agreed. “We were bored as hell.”

“Funny, Hargrove”, Bob said, patiently. “Very funny.”

“I thought so too!” Hargrove said with a smile that almost looked genuine.

“How did you even get out? I’ve been here since breakfast.”

“That’s for us to know and for you to spend the rest of the day thinking about, Bobby”, Hargrove said and clapped Bob on the shoulder. “Come on, Tommy, Carol. Bob wants us back on the premises.”

“Bye, Bob”, Carol said and followed the boys through the gate.

Bob shook his head as they passed, and then added over his shoulder, “Hey Hargrove, before I forget, the headmaster was looking for you earlier!”

“Okay, Bob!”

“You know, one of these days I’ll find whatever hole in the fence you’re using to get in and out!” Bob shouted after them.

“Sure thing, Bobby!” Hargrove answered and waved his hand in the air without turning around. Bob had to fight back a smile. Kids these days – always up to no good. Not that Bob himself had been a model student, back in the day …

 

* * *

 

“Hopper’s looking for you, huh?” Tommy asked on the way back to the school building. “What have you done now, Billy?”

“Why are you assuming that _I’ve_ done something? Maybe it’s something _you_ did?”

Tommy huffed and beside him, Carol outright laughed. “Yeah, sure.”

“You know, _someone_ else _must_ have gotten into trouble before I showed up. I know for sure that this school had a reputation before I came here – it’s why it was my dad’s _fourth_ choice!”

“Yeah well”, Carol said and popped the gum in her mouth, “back then Steve was the resident prankster.”

“Steve?” Billy said, disbelievingly. “Steve Harrington?”

“The very same”, Tommy said and put an arm around Carol’s shoulders as they walked up the stairs that led to the schoo’s main entrance. “I mean, it wasn’t on your level – because the rockets, man, fucking genius – but he came up with a bunch of great ones. There was the thing with the green paint in the toilets that I told you about, and also that time when we poured gelatin in all the fluids in the kitchen and pissed off Flo for weeks.” He shrugged. “Then he got together with Nancy Wheeler, and turned boring. That was a few months before you started here.”

“Hm”, was Billy’s thoughtful reply. “I never would have guessed. He seems like too much of a goody two-shoes.”

“Now, maybe. Then? Not so much.”

The school day still wasn’t over, but none of them felt like going to class. Judging by the way Carol was hanging over Tommy’s shoulder, a serious make-out session was coming, and Billy would rather not be a witness to that. Again. So when he spotted Jane walking down the hallway, he bid his goodbyes to Tommy and Carol to sidle up to Jane, instead.

“Hey kid.”

“Hello Billy.”

“Where ya heading?”

“Jim’s office.”

Billy grinned. “What a coincidence, that’s where I’m heading, too. Mind if I join you?”

Jane shook her head and smiled. Billy returned the smile. “You know, you’re probably the only person in this place who gets away with calling Hopper by his first name.”

Her smile widened. She probably knew that already – from what Billy could tell, Hopper had a soft spot for her and seemed to take extra care to make sure that she was doing well in school and was being treated fairly by her peers.

They walked up a couple of steps and down another corridor, talking the entire time, until they got to the headmaster’s office, where Billy knocked on the door.

Hopper frowned when he opened it and saw Billy standing there, but his expression cleared when he spotted Jane behind him.

“Oh good. Jane, please come in.” He opened the door to let her in, and revealed two men in suits who were already in his office. Hopper added, as if he had just remembered that Billy was there, “Oh, and Mr Hargrove, if you could please wait for a moment. I’d like a word with you, when we’re finished here.”

Billy barely had time to nod before Hopper closed the door in his face, but he heard him say, “Jane, these men are United State marshals …” before the door closed entirely.

And sue him, Billy was curious by nature. So he stuck around – not because Hopper had asked him, but because he wanted to know what was going on with Jane. She was a cool kid, after all, even if she was several years younger than him. She was certainly better than the rest of the kids her age – his step-sister included. She didn’t yap about a bunch of boring stuff all the time, for one. And she always seemed pleased to see him.

Hanging out in the hallway wasn’t how he’d planned to spend his afternoon, but it certainly beat having to go to class. And besides, he didn’t have to wait for very long before the door opened again. Hopper came out, followed by the two men – and then Jane, who looked upset. This set Billy on edge. Not much could faze Jane. She was the epitome of calm and collected.

“Hey, kid, you okay?”

She nodded, but looked hesitantly at Hopper, so Billy glared at him. Hopper held up a hand to stop him from speaking. “In a minute, Billy.”

Hopper then kneeled in front of Jane and put his hand on her shoulder, and when he spoke his voice was soft. “It’ll just be for a couple of days, probably. I’ll tell your friends. I know the woman you’ll be staying with, and you’ll be perfectly safe with her, okay? You’ll be back here in no time, don’t worry.”

She nodded, slowly, and Billy couldn’t keep quiet. “Where’s she going?”

Hopper sent an annoyed glance his way and opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Jane. “I don’t want to go.” Her voice sounded smaller than usual, and Hopper turned his attention back on her.

“I’m sorry, kid”, he said and patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. “But it’s for your safety. Dan and Frankie here are gonna follow you to your room and help you pack. And like I said, you’ll be back here in a couple of days. I’ll see you then, okay?”

“Okay.”

Billy watched Jane walk between the two men down the corridor, and the last he saw of her was when she turned back and looked at them before they rounded a corner. It made him frown, and he turned to Hopper with his mouth already open and ready to start an argument. He was met with a deep sigh and Hopper gesturing for him to come into his office.

“Where’s she going? Who were those guys?”

“Sit down, please”, Hopper said and sat down behind his desk. Billy remained standing, and Hopper shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You’ll probably find out from her friends, anyway, so I’ll tell you first. Jane is being taken into protective custody for a couple of days.”

“ _What_? Fucking why?”

Hopper exhaled. “Do I have to remind you – _again_ – that I am the headmaster of this school, and that you could at least _pretend_ to show some respect?”

“Okay – fucking why, _sir_?”

Hopper looked heavenwards for a second, as if to ask for strength, before he took a deep breath. “It has nothing to do with you and I don’t owe you an explanation–“ Billy took a breath, but didn’t have time to say anything before Hopper continued, louder than before, “– _but!_ I know you care about her, so.” He took another deep breath and gave Billy a serious look. “Are you aware of what she’s been through?”

Billy shrugged. “Some.” He’d heard the rumors – everyone had – but he’d never been one to put much faith in things like that; there were a lot of rumors going around about _him_ , after all, and not even half of them were even close to true.

“Her uncle is James Ives, who is a federal judge and currently presiding over the Martin Brenner case. Have you heard about Martin Brenner?”

“Some bad dude, yeah.”

“He’s the head of the Brenner family. They deal mostly in drugs, arms and smuggling. Martin Brenner was arrested last year, and is currently in prison. Now, Jane was kidnapped when she was eight years old – kidnapped by Brenner and his people – and kept as a kind of hostage to keep her uncle in check. She lived with Brenner for two years, before he was arrested and she was rescued from his household.”

He paused, to let the words sink in. Billy clenched his jaw, but didn’t speak.

“Now, though, with Martin Brenner in prison, his son Ben has taken over the family’s operations. He is very loyal to his father, and yesterday morning there was an attack on Ives’ Washington office, probably in an effort to make them release Martin Brenner from custody. While it failed, two innocent people died, and Ben Brenner and his men avoided capture. So it’s been decided that anyone connected to the case, and their families, will be taken into protective custody until Ben Brenner has been found, and put away. It’s purely for her safety. Does that answer your question?”

“I guess.”

“Good. Now please have a seat. There is something else that I want to talk to you about.”

Billy slid down in the chair in front of the desk. “And what is that? _Sir_.”

Hopper’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t comment. Billy Hargrove never called anyone ‘sir’, unless he was being sarcastic, or trying to prove his innocence. And both of those usually meant that he was guilty of something or other. And Hopper was pretty sure he know what it was, this time.

“Mr Hale encountered an intoxicated younger boy last night, right here on campus.”

Billy didn’t react, other than to raise his eyebrows. “Oh?”

“Yep. This boy was carrying around a bottle of what appeared to be mouthwash, but which, at further examination, proved to be strong alcohol.”

Billy smiled politely. “Maybe he was trying to fight plaque.” At Hopper’s lack of reaction, he continued, “Or, you know, gingivitis. Tartar buildup, maybe.”

Hopper leveled Billy with a stern look and continued as if Billy hadn’t spoken, “This morning, when the boy had sobered up somewhat, he admitted that he’d bought it from an older student at this school –“ At this, Billy actually tensed up, if only a little. “– although he wouldn’t give us a name.”

Hopper wove his fingers together on the desk. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, now would you?”

Billy’s face was a picture of innocence. “No, sir.”

“So if I were to order a search of every room in this school tonight, I wouldn’t find any alcoholic beverages in mouthwash bottles?”

“I wouldn’t know, sir.”

“And do you think that _if_ I found any alcohol – which is strictly prohibited in this school, by the way – _no one_ would tell me where they got it from, to avoid punishment?”

Billy was still smiling, although it looked a little strained now. “Like I said, I wouldn’t know.”

Hopper changed tactics. He stood up and gazed out the window. “You’ve become somewhat of a … let’s call it ‘leader’, at this school, since you came here.”

“Sir?”

“People look up to you. So if you were to _ask around_ , maybe you could …” Hopper turned around and looked him in the eyes, unblinkingly. “… help me find the rest of these bottles. And bring them to me. To avoid having to punish the … ‘misguided’ students who fell for this scam. And, of course, so that I won’t have to arrange a manhunt for the person who sold them the alcohol in the first place. Because that could be very public … and very embarrassing for everyone involved.”

Billy’s smile looked more like a grimace by now. It warmed Hopper’s heart.

“I can ask around … sir.”

Hopper’s voice dropped. “Bring those bottles to my apartments after dinner. _All of them_ , Billy. And don’t think I won’t have every room searched, if I think there is a single one left.”

Billy grinned at him, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll ask around.” He stood up from the chair.

“You do that.” Hopper walked around the desk, clapped him on the shoulder and then used his grip to steer him a couple of steps toward the door. “Also, I’m pretty sure you should be in class right now, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, _sir_ ”, Billy said between clenched teeth, still smiling.

“Off you go.”

Only when Billy had exited his office and was no longer in sight, Hopper allowed himself an amused exhale. “You little punk …”

Quite the entrepreneur, that one. At least acquiring and selling prohibited booze was better than getting into fights, which was something that Billy Hargrove had done a lot, when he first got here. He never threw the first punch, so Hopper could never pin the blame on him, but he used to be a part of some kind of tussle several times a week, and somehow always came out on top. Nowadays, though, there were less fights and more creative rule-bending. Hopper almost missed the beginning of the semester, when things were easy. At least then, he had reason to be angry, instead of secretly amused, or – in some cases – begrudgingly impressed at the boy’s creativity and ability to avoid getting caught.

 

* * *

 

When Billy returned to his room, just before dinner, he was carrying two full plastic bags and was scowling like he was getting paid for it. Jonathan, whom he shared the room with, looked up from his desk where he was working on something or other, eyebrows raised in question. Billy shook his head and growled, “Don't ask.”

“Wasn't going to.”

Billy put one of the bags by the door, and brought the other over to his bed. Under Jonathan's sceptic gaze, he pried open the net to the vent up by the ceiling, and stuffed the bag and its contents in there.

“You know how I feel about you stashing contraband in our shared space”, Jonathan said, tiredly.

“Yeah, and I don't give a fuck”, was Billy's reply. He jumped down to the floor, raised one eyebrow and pointed at Jonathan. “And for someone who 'doesn't want to know', you sure seem to know a lot about it.”

“It's hard not to. You keep flaunting it in front of me. It’s like you’re not even _trying_ to keep it a secret.”

Billy grinned. “I don’t care what you see, as long as you don't tell anyone.”

“Believe me, I have no interest in getting involved in whatever it is you're up to this time.”

“Your loss. It makes good money.”

“It'll be _your_ loss, if Hopper catches you with whatever it is.”

“He won't. I'll re-stash them tonight. Those ones –“ He pointed to the bag by the door. “– are for Hopper.”

“What, he takes bribes now?”

Billy looked at Jonathan as if he was an idiot, and Jonathan replied with a similar look. Billy shrugged.

“He cornered me earlier. This is a ... peace offering.”

Jonathan looked back down at whatever it was he was working on, obviously choosing not to get more involved. “You're gonna get expelled, one of these days.”

“In your dreams, Byers.”

“It’s like you know me, Hargrove”, Jonathan muttered, and didn’t react when Billy laughed.

 

* * *

 

During dinner, Billy was sitting at his usual table when Tommy slammed his tray down next to him, looking glum.

“Aw”, Billy said, because only one thing could cause Tommy to look so forlorn. “Where’s Carol?”

“In her room. Cramps.”

“Good. Then you can help me tonight.”

“Help you with what?”

Leaning in close, Billy explained in a low voice, “Hopper knows about the mouthwash, and he wants me to bring it to him after dinner. I've had to go around and getting bottles back all afternoon, or at least warn them to pour it into something else in case he's gonna search the rooms.”

Tommy gave him a sympathetic look and bit into a sandwich.

“That sucks, man. Did you have to pay them back?”

Billy looked offended. “Fuck no, I warned them about Hopper, that's enough!”

“So what do you need me for?”

“I'm not gonna give him _all_ the bottles! I paid too much for that. I'm gonna give him _some_ of them, and put the rest in the cellar, tonight. And I need you as a lookout.”

 

* * *

 

After dinner, Hopper made sure to be in his apartments when Billy knocked on his door. As soon as he opened it, Billy shoved a heavy plastic bag at him. Hopper took it, more from surprise than anything else, and then held out a hand to stop Billy from walking away when he made a move to leave.

“No, hang on a minute. Come in for a while, I want to talk to you.”

Billy sighed loudly, but turned and reluctantly walked into Hopper's living room. He stubbornly remained standing until Hopper sat down in a sofa and motioned to a chair on the other side of a little table. “Have a seat.”

Billy sat down – and somehow made it look like a chore – while Hopper peered inside the bag. It seemed to contain seven or eight bottles of mouthwash with various amounts of blue-green liquid in them.

Hopper's eyebrows rose. “Is this all?”

“These are all the ones that people would give up to me, yes.”

“They're half-empty.”

“Depressing outlook on life, sir. Some would say they're half-full.”

Hopper straightened up. “Don't push me, Hargrove.”

Billy smirked, but didn't say anything else.

“All right, let's cut the crap. We both know that you're behind this.”

Billy opened his mouth to speak, but Hopper pointed at him and said, “ _Don't_ lie to me.”

Billy closed his mouth.

“Things haven't been easy since you got here, Billy. The fights– “

“I didn't start those.”

A look from Hopper silenced him.

“The _fights_. The trouble that seems to follow you wherever you go. Your lack of respect for your teachers, the way you seem to think that the rules don’t apply to you, the _pranks_. You've probably broken every rule we have at least once, even though I can’t prove it.” He leaned forward in his seat. “Someone’s gonna get hurt one day. I'm not gonna stand for it, Billy.”

Something in Billy's eyes hardened, and he stood up. “Should I go pack, then?”

“Sit down!”

Billy did, slowly.

“You're not half as tough as you think you are. I see right through you, Billy. I know your kind, hell, I've _been_ your kind.” A pause, in which Hopper let his words sink in. “Now, I _should_ have you expelled, I really should. For the sake of everyone in this school, who is here to get a good education.”

Billy was working his jaw and wouldn't meet his eyes. Hopper continued, “You've already been expelled from three schools. What would your father say if you made it four?”

At this, Billy tensed minutely. Hopper noticed, but didn't wait for an answer. “If you were to be expelled from here – would you go live with him again? From what I understand, our school was somewhat of a last resort for you.”

Billy drew himself up, and all amusement was gone from his face when he replied. “My father ... probably wouldn't stand to have me home for long. So expel me if you want to. I don't give a shit.”

“Hey! Language.” Hopper raised his hand in warning, and narrowed his eyes when it made Billy lean away, if only a little. “Are you really in such a hurry to leave this place?”

Billy shrugged, but didn't reply.

“Why, Billy?” Hopper exclaimed and leaned back in the sofa. “Why are you doing all this? You have so much p– “

“Sir, with all due respect, if you say 'potential', I'm gonna puke.”

Hopper glared and continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. “ _Potential_ , and I'd hate to see you throw it all away.”

Billy said nothing, but he didn't fake-gag either, which Hopper suspected he wanted, so he counted it as a win.

“Just, think about where you're heading, all right?”

Billy seemed to be waiting for something else, and when that didn’t come, he met Hopper’s eyes. “So you're ... not kicking me out?”

“Not today. I _am_ putting you on kitchen duty for the rest of the school year, though.”

“ _What?_ But I– “

“You deserve it, and we both know it.”

Billy glared, but didn't disagree. Hopper fought back a smile.

“All right, get out of here.”

Billy shot out of his seat, and didn't seem to be able to get out of the room fast enough. Before he disappeared out the door, Hopper called after him, almost jovially, “You have a good night now, Billy.”

 

* * *

 

Jonathan didn't even look up from his book when Billy stormed in and went straight for the hidden bag in the vent.

“Did he kick you out?”

“No.”

“Shame.”

“Yeah, well, he probably knew that he'd never get anyone else to agree to share a room with _you_ , Byers. And _I_ only did because Hopper found out about the rockets, and this was the least sucky punishment.”

“I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to be a calming presence on you, actually.”

“Yeah? It's not working.”

“I could have told them that from the beginning. You're pretty much a hopeless case on that front.”

“Read your fucking book, Byers.”


	2. Chapter 2

There was a reason why kitchen duty was such an effective punishment; it was _fucking gross_ , and no one wanted to do it. Billy was hands deep in disgusting soapy water, trying to scrub some big pans clean after reporting for duty after breakfast, to the amusement of the kitchen staff. He knew he made a strange picture; the school's resident bad boy with a stained white apron tied around his waist. He lost his grip on a pan and dropped it in the sink, and winced as dirty dishwater splashed up, soaking the front of his T-shirt (and apron).

“Fucking great”, he mumbled, shook the excess water off his hands and reached for a towel to dry himself off.

At least no one else was in the kitchen right now – the staff had finished preparing breakfast and was now either serving the students or had joined the rest of the faculty at the breakfast table until breakfast was over and it was time to clean up. Which was part of why Billy had chosen to do his work right now – the less people to see him with a fucking apron around his waist, the better.

Glancing over to the corner of the kitchen, he smirked to himself. Right there on the floor, under two metal carts that were conveniently parked there, was the entrance to a rarely-used cellar. And hidden behind a couple of dusty crates in _that_ cellar, was a hole in the wall that led to an abandoned basement that Billy doubted most people remembered was there, or even knew about. Tommy had shown it to him when he'd first arrived here, and they and a couple of boys they knew used it as a place to hang out when they didn't want to be found; it was a place to drink, to smoke, to talk shit and not have to worry about being discovered by any adults. It was also a great place for storing things they didn’t want anyone to find. And now, it was also containing the rest of Billy's vodka-mouthwash bottles. Close enough to pick up, if he needed to get them, and easy enough to access, if one knew where to look.

He looked up when he heard a distant sound from outside, like a pop, and that was the only reason why he saw the movement at all – something moving behind the partly-opened door to the pantry. He froze, but only because he'd been certain that he was alone in here, and the staff always made a lot of noise.

“Hey, who's there?”

A head full of curly hair peered around the doorway, and Billy relaxed as he recognized Jane.

“Hey, kid.” Then he looked her over. “What are you doing here? I thought you were gonna go into, you know, protective custody or some shit? Hopper said so yesterday.”

She looked down at her feet. “I ran away.” Then she glanced up at him to gauge his reaction.

Billy had to school his expression so he didn't burst out laughing. “You ran away? From two cops?”

“Marshals.”

Billy snorted. “How did you manage that?”

“I left when they stopped for gas. Then I hitch-hiked back. And walked.”

Billy threw the towel to the side, pulled the apron off and grabbed his jean jacket from a nearby table. “You made it all the way back by yourself? Nice. What did Bob say when you showed up?”

“He didn't see. I came through the storm drain.”

Billy huffed out a laugh. “I never should have shown you that.” Grinning, he walked up to her and ruffled her hair. “Still, good job, kid! Why, though? I thought it was for your protection? Didn't they explain it to you?”

“I don't want to leave my friends.”

Billy's grin softened. “Have you told anyone you're back?”

She nodded. “Mike knows. He told me to hide in here.”

Billy rolled his eyes. “Of course he did.” He hated being the adult in any given situation, but. “We should probably go and tell Hopper that you're back. You don't wanna worry him, do you?”

Jane shook her head, but then both of them froze when they heard a noise – more of those pops – coming from the front of the school. Billy frowned – because one of those pops could be explained, but several? – and pulled Jane with him to the corner of the kitchen. While peering out through the window, he kicked the metal carts away from the hatch in the floor that led to the cellar.

“Get in”, he said as he opened it.

She hesitated, so he grabbed her arm and gently pushed her down a couple of steps. “Get down there, and stay until I come and get you, okay? Be quiet, and don't come out.”

“What's going on?”

“I don't know. It might be nothing, but.” But those might have been shots, and he knew there were bad guys out there, who might be looking for her. Billy wasn't ready to take a chance. “Just to be safe.” He nodded down at the cellar. “There are flashlights by the end of the stairs, and snacks in the room behind the crates. Just stay, okay? I'll come back for you.”

She took a couple of more steps down the stairs, and Billy tried to give her a reassuring smile before he closed the hatch. Just in time, too. From the busy cafeteria came the sounds of yelling, and then sharp gunfire that made Billy flinch, hard. He pulled back the carts to hide the entrance, and had only just taken a couple of steps toward the door when a dark-haired man burst through it and pointed a rifle at Billy's face.

“Whoa, whoa!” Billy's hands shot up in the air. “Don't shoot!”

The man didn't speak, but motioned with his rifle for Billy to come closer, which he carefully did. The man checked the rest of the kitchen, and seemed to decide that Billy had been alone in there. When he was close enough to grab, the man's hand shot out and he pulled Billy through the doorway into the cafeteria. He was barely through the door when the man grunted “Get down!” and pushed him down roughly, until he was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. Billy, still with his hands up, slowly lifted his head and looked around the room. Everywhere, students and teachers alike were huddling under tables and knocked-over chairs, and pressed themselves up against the walls. Armed men were placed here and there in the room. Billy counted seven in total.

No one so much as moved a finger, and all of their attention was focused on three men who was standing in the middle of the room. Two of them were holding rifles, and judging from the plaster that was still raining down on the floor right in front of him, one of them must have been the one who had fired the shots Billy had just heard. In between them stood a blond-haired man, whose voice seemed to boom in the eerily silent cafeteria.

“Everyone, stay where you are until we tell you to move. Don't get up. Don't do anything. If you follow these instructions, you will not get hurt. Do you understand?”

He seemed to interpret their silence as a ‘yes’, because he gave a sharp nod and leaned in close to say something to the two armed men by his side. They, in turn, motioned to some of the other men, who spilled out of the room. The blond man turned around one last time to give the students and staff a fleeting glance, before he, too, strode out of the room. Left to guard them were three men armed with guns; one by the front door, one by the door to the kitchen, and one situated in the middle of the room. All of them were gripping their weapons tight, and looked ready to shoot if anyone so much as breathed in their direction.

Billy searched the room for his step-sister’s red hair, and found her in the other end of the room, next to the Wheeler kid. She was lying on her stomach on the floor, half-way under a table, and even though she looked even paler than usual, she didn’t seem to be hurt. Billy relaxed a fraction when he saw that she was unharmed and surrounded by her nerdy friends.

It was evident that the shock of what was happening was beginning to sink in. The silence in the room was broken suddenly by a hiccup, which turned into a frightened squeal, and when Billy searched for the source of the sound, he saw that one of the younger kids – a girl who looked younger than his step-sister, even – had scrunched her face up and was fighting against tears.

Just one of them starting to cry made several other of the younger kids start sobbing quietly, too, and Billy swore internally. This would be hell, if no one did anything soon.

One of the teachers – for the younger classes, probably, since Billy didn't know his name – held up his hands. When he got eye contact with one of the armed men, he motioned to the closest crying child and asked, “Can I ...?”

The man grunted in affirmation, and the teacher hurried to the child's side. Several other teachers did the same, after asking permission, and while in many cases it made the children cry more, at least now there was an adult between them and the men with guns. Billy looked across the room again, and noticed that Steve was huddling under the same table as Max and her little friends, only a small distance away. Jonathan was also close – he was situated by his little brother’s side, so at least the kids weren't alone. Billy wouldn’t admit it, but he was relieved. If anything happened to Max, there was no way he'd make it across the room in time to do anything about it.

 

* * *

 

Steve was _not_ having a good day. First, he discovered that he was out of hairspray, so he had to use his roommate’s crappy kind – even though he was lucky Timmy was away on some boring school-sanctioned trip, or he would have bitched about Steve touching his stuff – so now his hair looked droopy and sad. Second, during breakfast Dustin plopped down next to him – which wasn’t bad in itself, but he brought the rest of his friends with him, too – and he had to spend the entire meal listening to them chat about nerdy topics that he didn’t understand. And third, armed men with guns burst in the cafeteria and took them all hostage.

He had been sitting in silence and poking at his food with his spoon when he saw Will’s eyes widen, and before he even had a chance to turn around and look for the reason, there were gunshots being fired just behind him. He didn’t think, just threw himself down on the floor, pulling Dustin and Lucas (who were the closest to him, and in reach) with him. For a couple of seconds, he didn’t breathe; he was too busy making sure all the kids were under the table with him (they were), and only when he had accounted for all of them did he look over his shoulder to see what the hell just happened.

There were armed men. In their cafeteria. Running around, pointing their guns at people, shoving them to the floor, telling them to stay down.

Then a tall blond man who didn’t have a gun – flanked by two guys who _had_ guns – showed them that he was the leader, and left all of them on the floor of the cafeteria with three gunmen guarding them. Steve drew a blank; he couldn’t think of any reason why anyone would want to bring guns into a _school_ , but now they were here and the situation wasn’t optimal.

He’d turned around so that he was facing the room, and he could feel Dustin and Lucas hunching down on either side of him. If he turned his head, he could see them. On Dustin’s other side were Max and Mike, and opposite to Lucas, on the other side of the table, was Will and – Steve was surprised to note, since he had been nowhere near them when the shots had gone off – Jonathan.

When some teachers started moving around to be able to put their arms around some of the younger children and weren’t shot on sight for murmuring comforting words into their hair, Steve dared to whisper, “You guys okay?”

They didn’t reply out loud, but they nodded, their faces pale and drawn.

The door to the cafeteria opened, and one of the armed men pushed the school nurse and a student through and shoved them to the floor before he turned and left. In the next ten minutes, three more students and two more teachers were roughly escorted into the room to join the rest of them on the floor.

The school, which had many students with wealthy parents who demanded that their children were safe, had a security guard who patrolled the campus during the day. His name was Benny, and he was a friendly guy who always had a smile for everyone and who always took the time to talk to any student who wanted to chat for a bit. Steve couldn't help but notice that Benny wasn't in the room with them. That he hadn't been taken here along with the rest of them. Come to think of it, Bob – ‘the gatekeeper’, as the kids had dubbed him – was also missing. The implication wasn't lost on Steve, and he swallowed hard and hoped that the kids wouldn't notice.

Twenty minutes later, a man they hadn't seen before – who didn’t carry a rifle, but who had a handgun tucked into the lining of his pants – burst through the doors. He was holding a piece of paper – a photo, Steve realized when he got closer – and was comparing whoever was on that photo to all the students' faces as he slowly made his way around the room. Some, he barely glanced at. Others, he stared hard at, but he didn't seem to find whoever he was looking for. He passed by Steve and the kids pretty quickly, and Steve didn't have a chance to see whose picture he was holding. But he let out a relieved breath as apparently, neither he nor what he'd come to think of as 'his kids' were the man's target.

When the man had finished his round, he was frowning. He left without a word, and everyone seemed to be able to breathe easier when he was gone. Some people murmured quietly amongst themselves, but one of the armed men was standing just a couple of steps from the table they were huddling under, and Steve didn’t want to take a chance. The kids whispered to each other a couple of times, but Steve caught their eyes and shook his head, not wanting to risk anything.

A little more than an hour had passed since the whole thing began when the blond man returned, accompanied by the man who had walked around with the photo. There had been hushed whispers here and there in the room, but at their arrival everyone fell silent once again. The blond zeroed in on the staff, and looked from one of them to the other.

“Who is in charge? Who is Headmaster Jim Hopper?”

And Steve hadn't even noticed until now that Hopper wasn't here. Fear squeezed his heart at this, but he reminded himself that Hopper was surely all right since this man was currently asking for him – hence didn't know where he was.

Mr Clarke, the science teacher and deputy headmaster, raised a surprisingly steady hand and cleared his throat.

“Headmaster Hopper went into town for an errand this morning. I act as headmaster when he is unavailable.”

The blond man went to stand in front of him, and motioned for him to stand up. “What is your name?”

“Scott Clarke.”

“Scott Clarke. Come with me.”

He turned, as if he expected Mr Clarke to follow, no questions asked – and Mr Clarke did. To be fair, with several men carrying weapons in a room full of possible targets, Steve would have done the same thing. Mr Clarke turned in the doorway and tried to give everyone a comforting smile. It turned into more of a nervous grimace, but Steve appreciated the effort.

Just as they left the room, there was the sound of rapid gunfire from outside, which made everyone crouch down low. It was followed by the sound of an explosion, and Steve jumped. What the _fuck_ was going on?

 

* * *

 

Mr Clarke followed the man through the well-known corridors of the school where he had been working for more than twelve years, while the other man walked behind them, holding his gun in a loose grip in his hand. Twice, they were met with men who were busy pulling orange wires through the corridors and attaching them to the walls with duct tape, and Mr Clarke swallowed when he considered the implications.

They ended up in the Headmaster’s office, where the blond man seemed to have made himself at home already. There were crates on the floor and drawers pulled out from the filing cabinet, and on the desk was a contraption that made Mr Clarke’s blood run cold.

The man noticed his reaction and nodded toward the desk.

“You know what this is, Mr Clarke?”

Mr Clarke nodded, face pale. “I teach science, and run the AV club. I have … I have an idea, yes.”

Surprisingly, this made the man smile wide. “Good! Then this will be much easier for all of us, as I won’t have to explain to you what will happen if we don’t get what we want.”

He sat down in the headmaster’s chair and looked up at Mr Clarke, who remained standing. “Now, as to what we want ... Tell me, Mr Clarke, do you know who I am?”

Mr Clarke carefully shook his head, so the man continued. “My name is Ben Brenner. My father is Martin Brenner.” He paused, and watched as his words sunk in. “I see that you recognize that name, at least. And if you’re the deputy headmaster of this school, and if you know your students as well as your title suggests, you should be able to guess why we are here.”

“You want Jane.”

“I want Jane”, Brenner agreed. “The thing is, that she doesn’t seem to be among the rest of the students. So my question is; where is she?”

Mr Clarke wet his lips and shook his head. “I don’t … She’s not here.”

Brenner stood up, slowly, and said, “It will be in your best interest not to _lie to me_!” The last words were yelled, and accompanied by him hitting the desk with his fist. Mr Clarke jumped backward and put his hands in front of him.

“I’m not lying! I’m not … She was picked up yesterday, by a couple of United States Marshals. I swear, they … She’s not here.”

Brenner’s face was drawn. “If I find out that you are lying to me …”

“I’m not! It should be … There should be a note of it in the …” Mr Clarke motioned toward the desk. “In the … Second drawer, there’s a pile of papers ...”

Eyes narrowing, Brenner opened the drawer and started rifling through the various papers he found there, while Mr Clarke continued to babble nervously. “Hop, the-the headmaster, he hates sorting through paperwork. He probably hasn’t put it in her file just yet, they were only here yesterday, she – “

“Shut up”, Brenner said, and held up a piece of paper. He was working his jaw as he read through it, but didn’t show his displeasure in any other way. Instead, he calmly put the paper down on the desk when he was done, and took a deep breath. Then he turned his attention back to Mr Clarke.

“It seems you were telling me the truth. Good. Keep that up, and you and your students will get through this without anyone getting hurt.”

Then he turned to the other man in the room, and pointed at a couple of folders that had been in their own pile. “Atwell. We’re going with plan B.”

 

* * *

 

Hopper was driving back from town, and he was annoyed. He’d gone into town early in the morning to visit with the owners of the two local stores that sold liquor, to try and find out where and how Hargrove had acquired the alcohol for his (horrible, Hopper had tasted it) mouthwash-concoction. One of them had seemed genuinely confused, but the other had been defensive about it and had become confrontational when Hopper asked more questions, and had then basically thrown him out. Hopper was already planning to call the Chief of Police when he got back to his office.

Only, when he drove up to the school, the police were already there. A police vehicle was parked across the road just before the bend where one would be able to spot the school building through the trees, and an officer that Hopper only vaguely recognized held up a hand and motioned for him to stop.

Hopper parked his car on the side of the road and got out, and while the officer started walking toward him, it was the Chief of Police – standing off to the side with a couple of other officers – that Hopper zeroed in on. He pushed past the first man and stalked up to the little group.

“What’s going on?”

“Hop”, the Chief greeted, looking grim. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry about?”

“An hour or so ago, an unknown number of heavily armed people got into the school. A witness heard gunfire and came to investigate, and found …” His face twisted into a grimace. “I’m sorry, Hop, but Bob’s dead.”

Hopper could feel himself swaying. “What?”

“I can only guess that he tried to stop them from entering. They shot him, and proceeded into the school. Now, we have tried contacting whoever is in there, but no one is answering the phone. We can go as far as the front gate, but if we try to move beyond that point, they answer with heavy fire.”

Hopper was still reeling from the information he’d been given, and when he wasn’t interrupted, the Chief went on; “I sent in an officer in a car, driving very slowly, unarmed and telling them via loudspeaker that he was coming. They shot at him, and then launched some kind of rocket from the roof. Totaled the car.”

Hopper turned toward the school, and saw dark smoke coming up from between the trees. “The officer?”

“Alive for now, but. He was shot in the stomach and chest. The ambulance just left.”

The severity of the situation dawned on Hopper as he watched the Chief briefly close his eyes and swallow.

“The kids?”

“We don’t know. The witness heard more gunfire when he arrived and found Bob, but since then, nothing – until my officer got shot. But we haven’t seen or heard anything that would indicate ...” He cleared his throat and straightened up. “We can only assume that everyone is all right for now.” 

“I have to get back there”, Hopper said and took a couple of steps, but was stopped by the Chief’s grip on his arm.

“I’m not letting you do that.”

“I ha–“

“You won’t do anyone any good if you get yourself killed! We need you here, Hop. You are our best source of information about the hostages, and about the school itself. Besides, we’re going to have to inform the parents.”

“So, what? We just stand here and do nothing?”

“Of course not. We try to establish contact, we gather information, we talk to witnesses – and you prepare what you’re going to tell the families.” He laid a heavy hand on Hopper’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I know it’s hard. But we’ve called the State Police. Until they get here, it’s all we can do.”

 

* * *

 

Mr Clarke’s voice was surprisingly steady as he picked up the phone that had been ringing for the last couple of minutes. With a nervous look to the side, from where Brenner was watching him, he cleared his throat and said, “This is Scott Clarke speaking.”

Brenner pushed the button to put the call on speakerphone so that the person on the other end of the line could be heard by everyone in the room.

“This is Harris, Chief of Police. What can you tell me about the situation, Mr Clarke?”

Mr Clarke looked at Brenner and licked his lips. “Well, um, first of all, you’re on speaker. I have been instructed to let you know that Mr Ben Brenner is present, and that he and a number of his people are in control of the school at the moment. They are heavily armed. There are .50-caliber machine guns on the roof, so you should probably not try to get close?” Brenner sent him a sharp look, and Mr Clarke amended, “I mean, don’t get closer than the front gate, or they’ll shoot. Don’t try to breach the wall or the fences, or they’ll shoot. They have a perimeter around the campus, and um, there are bombs placed all around the school. Should the wires be tampered with, they’ll go off.”

Brenner held up his arm and pointed at the square metal box that was taped to his wrist, and Mr Clarke continued, “He also has a remote control device attached by tape to the back of his hand. He can blow the school up by pressing a button.”

There was momentary silence from the other end, before the Chief’s voice came back. “And what does Mr Brenner want?”

Mr Clarke didn’t answer, instead he turned to Brenner with a questioning look. Brenner answered himself.

“You know who I am, so you should be able to guess what I want. Now, I am releasing the faculty. One of them will be carrying a complete list of my demands. These are non-negotiable. If you do not adhere to them and produce my father unharmed … I will begin executing the hostages.”

 

* * *

 

Billy’s legs were falling asleep, and he was trying to stretch them out without being noticed. They’d been sitting on the cafeteria floor for hours when the blond man entered the room for the third time. There had been armed men going in and out the whole time; carrying things and speaking in low voices to the three men who seemed to be stationed to guard them, and also dragging in a bunch of orange wires and taping them to the walls and windows – and while everyone was wary of each and every one of their captors, none of them held the same kind of authority as the blond man. There was something about him that made people tense up when he was around, and this time was no different.

“Everybody up!” were his first words when he’d reached the middle of the room. “Teachers and staff, to the right. Students, to the left.” No one dared to be the first one to move, and his face transformed from calm and rational to angry in the blink of an eye. “ _Now_!”

While everyone scrambled to do as they were told, the man went back to looking calm and collected. Billy took the opportunity to edge closer to Max and her little group. He wasn’t really sure why – perhaps his dad’s lessons on responsibility had finally taken root.

The man inspected the side where the staff was standing. There were sixteen of them, including Mr Clarke, who had apparently returned while Billy wasn’t looking. The blond man pointed at the cook – Cal – the lunch lady – Flo – and Mr Clarke and said, “You three, stay. The rest of you will be released.”

A few teachers started to protest, but fell silent when they suddenly had guns pointed at them. The blond repeated, “You will be released. You –“ He motioned at Mr Fredricksen, the English teacher, who reluctantly took a step forward, “– will take this list of demands and deliver them to whoever is in charge on the outside.” He handed Mr Fredricksen an envelope, and watched as he took it with shaking hands. Then he gestured toward the doors, where two armed men were waiting.

“Follow these men. Walk in an orderly fashion. And don’t do anything stupid – remember who is in charge.”

The teachers and staff looked at each other and then to the kids. They looked torn, but all it took for them to start moving was that someone cocked a gun and lazily swung it toward the side where the students were standing – making the kids gasp and press against the wall. The teachers moved out quickly, then.

When they had left, the man turned toward the rest of them, just as one guard ushered Mr Clarke and the kitchen staff over to join them.

“My name is Ben Brenner.”

Billy felt his heart freeze up as he recognized the name.

“I’m the one in charge from now on. Here’s what you need to know: Anyone who tries to leave this building without my permission will be shot.” His voice was clear, and carried across the dead silence of the room. “We will take a head count now, and again tonight, and then again in the morning. If one person is missing … five of you will be executed. If two are missing, ten will be shot, and so on. Tomorrow, we will begin a head count every hour, on the hour. If all goes well, you will be allowed out into the quad, and in certain parts of the building. But every hour, on the hour, you must be back in this room to be counted. Is that understood?”

He watched as some of them nodded, and that was apparently enough to satisfy him.

“Second!” he continued and pointed to the nearest wall. “You have seen these orange wires. They run throughout this building and outside. They are wired to explosives. If any of the wires are cut … the explosives will go off automatically. If any of the individual explosives are tampered with …”

He watched them intently.

“… they will _explode_!” He screamed the last word. Most of them jumped at this outburst, and he smiled at them calmly as he continued. “Do you see this thing?” He held up his arm and pointed at the little box that was taped there. It had a button on it, as well as a little red light. “It is a remote detonator. It means I can make the bombs go off by pressing a button. So _do not_ … fuck with me.”

He leveled them with a cold look. “So. In short; Don’t touch the wires. Don’t touch the explosives. Don’t do anything stupid. Easy.”

He held his hand out expectantly, and one of the men (the one who’d walked around with the picture a while ago) handed him a bunch of folders. He took them, and flipped the top one open.

“Now”, he said, “when I call your name, you will step forward. Adams, Martin.”

A blond boy a year younger than Billy stepped up, looking nervous. Brenner regarded him coldly. “Your father is Senator Richard Adams?”

“Yes sir.”

Brenner nodded and called out, “Lewis, Scott.”

One of Billy’s classmates took a hesitant step forward.

“Is your father Frederick Lewis, former Chairman of the Armed Services Committee?”

“Yeah. I mean – yes, sir.”

“Hill, Thomas.”

Billy flinched, and turned his head to the side, to where he’d last seen Tommy. Carol was by his side, and she bit her lip nervously as she watched him take a couple of steps forward.

Brenner didn’t say anything at first, just kept looking between Tommy and whatever was in the file with a detached sort of interest. Finally he said, “You are Thomas Hill, son of Georgie Hill?”

Tommy raised his chin. “Yeah.”

“ _The_ Georgie Hill?”

Clenching his teeth, Tommy nodded. “Yeah.”

This, surprisingly, made Brenner smile. He took a step closer and added, voice too low for most people in the room to hear, “What’s the matter? Are you not proud of your father? I thought loyalty was important in your _family_.”

Thankfully – because Tommy wasn’t known to reign in his temper – Brenner didn’t seem to expect a reply. Instead he moved on with his list.

“Hernandez, Isabel.”

A short girl who was even smaller than Max let out a loud gasp and looked around her with wide eyes. Brenner waved her forward. “Come here, Isabel.” When she had hesitantly taken a step in front of the other kids, he continued, “Your father is Antonio Hernandez, of the Los Angeles Dodgers?”

She nodded. Billy hoped Brenner wouldn’t make her speak, because she looked like she wouldn’t be able to get a word out. Brenner seemed to let her silence slide, but the next words out of his mouth still made Billy’s head snap up.

“Harrington, Steven.”

Billy sought out Steve in the crowd. The kids who were surrounding him looked ready to protest, and the curly-haired one even held on to his shirt to stop him from moving. Steve gently extricated himself from his grip, and went to stand alongside the other kids whose names Brenner had called. Brenner smiled drily at the scene.

“And what does your father do, Steven?”

“Uhm. He’s a contractor.”

Billy winced. That sounded way too dismissive. Steve may have just wanted to play it down, but Brenner was probably not going to see it that way. And sure enough, Brenner raised an eyebrow and held up Steve’s folder. “According to this, he owns Harrington Construction, which is the second largest construction company in North America.”

“Yeah”, Steve said and wet his lips. “A contractor.”

Brenner was on him in a heartbeat, his arm flying out to slam Steve against the nearest pillar and hold him there. Everyone took a collective breath, or flinched, and Billy suddenly found himself at the kids’ side, only intending to make sure that Max didn’t do anything stupid but ending up holding the curly-haired one back, instead.

“Don’t give me attitude, Steven”, Brenner says, voice low. “Or you won’t like what happens. Do you understand?”

Steve’s mouth was open, and his eyes were wide. “Yes.” Brenner applied more pressure, and Steve said, louder, “ _Yes_ , I understand.”

Only then did Brenner back up and release his hold on him. “Good.”

He looked over the five kids he’d called forward, and then at the files that were still in his hand. Then he smiled, and turned to the photo-guy.

“Atwell, I think you’re right. We don’t need her.”


	3. Chapter 3

They were taken to the corridor where the younger boys lived, and were haphazardly pushed into rooms according to who they were walking besides, with no regards to age or gender. While they usually shared a room with one other person, now they were six or seven of them to a room. And because Steve was having the _worst day ever_ , not only was he pushed into Dustin’s room along with Dustin, Will, Mike, Lucas and Max – but Billy, who for some reason ended up trailing behind them when they left the cafeteria, stumbled in after him. The guard told them gruffly to stay until they were called upon, and then closed the door behind them.

And there they were. Steve, the so-called ‘party’, and Billy Hargrove. Steve was pretty sure that Jonathan was shoved into the adjoining room – he’d been trying to stay close to his little brother – and despite the awkwardness between them after everything that had happened with Nancy, he suddenly wished that it had been Jonathan instead. Hell, _anyone_ but Billy.

Billy, who was drawing himself up and looking around the room with a look of disinterest on his face. While everyone else were gathering around the first bed and began talking all at once, Billy walked up to one of the desks, which held a big yellow plane that was definitely hand-made (or at least hand-painted, judging by the scribbly lines on the sides that Steve guessed was supposed to be flames), and picked it up, holding it at eye-level.

Dustin, who Steve saw had been glaring at Billy since the door closed, rushed past Steve and – in an uncharacteristically brave move – snatched it right out of Billy’s hands. “Careful with that, it’s fragile!”

“Is it yours?”

Dustin cradled the plane against his chest and twisted his body away, as if he could shield it from Billy, and cautiously nodded. Billy raised an eyebrow. “Did you make it?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes.”

Billy’s other eyebrow joined the first one, and he managed to look impressed and bored all at once. “Nice work.”

“You– What?”

“So you know about technology and stuff, huh?”

Dustin gave Steve an ‘I don’t know what’s happening, why is he talking to me?’-look. “Uh, yeah, I guess.”

“So the remote detonator thing he’s got around his wrist, that shit’s gonna work?”

“… Yeah.” He seemed to think it through, and threw a glance at his friends – who had gone silent – before he shrugged. “I mean, yeah, probably.”

“Damn.”

“Why?” Steve couldn’t help asking, somewhat snidely. “You planning on taking him down, Billy?”

Billy turned to Steve and drew himself up before giving him a smile that was anything but sincere. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Harrington, I’m just exploring all options.”

“What options?” Steve said, frustrated. “There _aren’t_ any options. What were you gonna do? Club that _Brenner guy_ over the head with a plate, too? That’ll go over well.”

Billy’s eyes narrowed. “Are you still not over that?” His tongue darted out of his mouth as he licked his lips. “It sounds to me that you’re just mad ‘cause I won that fight.”

Dustin piped up at this. “You wouldn’t have won if you’d have fought fair!” Steve appreciated the support, especially since it still stung a bit how easily Billy had beaten him back then.

“It doesn’t matter if I fought fair or not. I _won_.”

“Oh my god, _whatever_!” Max exclaimed and threw her hands in the air. “Who cares about that? Don’t you think we have more important things to worry about right now?”

“Yeah, like Jane!” Mike said. Everyone turned as one to look at him, and he faltered.

Steve shook his head. “What are you talking about? She’s fine, she’s with those agents or whatever, Hopper said so.”

Mike looked shifty-eyed and scratched his arm awkwardly. “Yeah well maybe … maybe she came back this morning and she’s hiding.”

A pause, then the room exploded.

“What?!”

“Is she back?”

“Where is she, then?”

“How do you know, have you seen her?”

Mike raised his hands as if he could physically ward off their questions, and only answered the last one. “She snuck in this morning. I met her in the hall before breakfast –“

“But she’s not supposed to be here!” Steve said. “Why is she back?” If these guys found her wandering around the school, she could get hurt – or worse.

“She ditched the marshals”, Billy said calmly, making everyone turn to stare at him.

Mike drew in a sharp breath in understanding. “You were in the kitchen!” It sounded like an accusation.

Billy raised his eyebrows, unimpressed. “Yeah. I’m on kitchen duty.” The ‘duh’ was implied.

“What does that got to do with Jane?” Lucas asked.

Mike turned to him. “She didn’t want to be seen by anyone since she’d run away, so I told her to hide in the kitchen until after breakfast … and _he_ –“ He pointed at Billy. “– was in the kitchen too, so he must have seen her!” He turned to Billy. “You saw her, right? You talked to her.”

Billy raised his chin and narrowed his eyes. “I did.”

A few seconds passed when no one said anything, and then Mike exploded, “Well, is she _okay_? Where is she? Why didn’t they find her, why isn’t she with the rest of us?”

Billy scrunched up his face. “Jesus, kid, calm down. Jane’s fine. She’s safe.” He gave Steve a significant look and dipped his head, and understanding dawned on Steve.

“The cellar”, he said. Billy nodded.

“What cellar?” Mike asked, frustration evident in his voice. “What are you _talking_ about?”

Steve was the one to answer. “There’s a mostly forgotten cellar under the school, and the entrance is in the kitchen.” He’d been there many times before, after all – but not a lot during the last year, for various reasons.

“Way to keep it a secret, Harrington”, Billy murmured, but continued, “But yeah. So when I heard the shots, I told Jane to hide down there, and pulled some carts over the entrance so no one would notice it.”

That sounded way too altruistic to come from Billy Hargrove, and Steve was apparently not the only one to think so. All of them looked at Billy as if he had sprouted another head, and he scowled at them, clearly uncomfortable. “What?”

Instead of answering, Mike continued worrying about Jane. “Well, she’s not going to know what’s going on. What if she walks out of there? And how is she going to get food and water and–“

“There’s snacks and stuff in the cellar”, Billy said. “And I told her to stay there until I came back for her. Hopefully she won’t venture out before that. That would be … _very_ bad.”

Steve noticed the way he said it. “What do you mean?”

“Well, Brenner’s here because of her.”

Everyone’s heads snapped up and his words were met with a chorus of _‘What?!_ ’s.

“Yeah, didn’t Hopper tell you? The reason why she was taken into protective custody at all was because this Brenner guy. Apparently his dad’s in jail and Jane’s uncle is leading the case against him or something? And she was living with Brenner Senior for like two years after he kidnapped her as collateral a couple of years ago?”

Steve could feel his mouth hang open. “You’re shitting me.”

“No. Why would I make this up? Hopper told me yesterday.”

“Why would Hopper tell _you_?” Mike said, properly upset at this point. “He didn’t tell us!”

“I _asked_ , dipshit.”

“Okay, wait”, Steve said, trying to make sense of it all. “So Brenner came here to get Jane, but as far as he knows, she’s been taken into protective custody already. But in actuality, she’s here. In the cellar. And no one knows but us.”

Billy gestured at him with his hands, shaped into finger guns, and winked. “Got it in one, Harrington.”

“What do they want with her?”

“Use her to trade for Brenner’s dad, probably”, Billy said, shrugging. “But I think they’ve figured out that they don’t actually need her for that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I _mean_ , that they have a whole school full of hostages, _some_ of which –“ He gave Steve a pointed look. “– have rich and powerful parents. Tell me, Steve. What do you think your parents will do when they find out what’s going on?” He turned and looked at the other kids in the room. “What do you think _all_ of your parents will do to get you back in one piece?”

Lucas was the first one to answer. “They’ll raise hell.”

Billy nodded, less smug than Steve would have expected him to be at making his point. “Yep.”

 

* * *

 

Hopper took a deep breath. The day felt like it had gone on forever, and it wasn’t even dinnertime yet. The area outside the school gates was filling up with people and vehicles, and it was honestly just a matter of time until the media would show up, too. The Chief had told him that someone named Crawford from the FBI had called and said they were on their way, and that he would take over as soon as they arrived. For now, they should hold the fort and not answer any questions if they were approached by anyone who couldn’t identify themselves as police or FBI.

Hopper hadn’t stayed outside the gates for long. While he wanted to be as close to the school as possible, he knew that there was nothing he could do there, and so chose to go back into town. He’d spent a couple of hours at the police station, which was almost empty except for him, a junior police officer and a nervous receptionist. He’d been writing down everything he felt could be of use about the school, its students, the teachers, the building itself and the area surrounding it.

He’d also been writing down some points on what they were going to say to the parents, when he and whoever he could rope into helping him would start making calls. It would have to be short and brief, as there were almost a hundred children currently attending Hawkins. The parents would be invited to an information briefing, either in person or over the phone, but they simply didn’t have time for a discussion with that many parents over the phone – it would take too long and they didn’t have the manpower.

One parent, though, deserved to be informed right away, and Hopper had already put it off for too long. He dialed the familiar number and waited as it rang. He almost hoped that there wouldn’t be a reply, but then he steeled himself as someone answered.

“Byers residence, Joyce speaking.”

“Joyce, it’s Hopper.”

“Hi, Hop!” A pause, followed by a sharp intake of breath. “What’s wrong? You never call during the day. What’s going on?”

Joyce was very protective of her boys, and for good reason. Less than a year ago, her youngest boy had been abducted and gone missing for ten days. When he came back, he didn’t speak for four months, and he suffered horrible nightmares. When he finally started talking, he couldn’t tell them what he’d been through; he only spoke of monsters, and hinted at horrible, horrible things. It had been a strain on his whole family, which was one of the reasons why Hopper had grown so close to them all. Young Will was supposed to have started school with the rest of his friends, but due to his special circumstances, it had been delayed. It wasn’t until they discovered that his nightmares lessened when he was around his friends, that Joyce reluctantly let him move into the school with the rest of them. He’d been recovering for the last six months, with the help of his friends and the weekly meetings with a child psychiatrist.

Still, Joyce hadn’t been able to stay away. The events had caused her to split with her husband – Hopper didn’t have more details than that – and she had simply moved to the town to be able to be closer to her sons. All the other children’s parents lived somewhere else – all over the United States, and some even abroad – so Joyce Byers was the only one who lived close by. She visited her sons several times a week, and came to talk to Hopper at least once a week. Hopper didn’t mind in the least. It was nice to deal with a parent who was so obvious about their love for their children.

So there was really no easy way to say what he was about to say.

“Joyce, there’s ... There’s been an incident at the school.”

 

* * *

 

It was late afternoon when everyone were called from their rooms once again, one room at the time. The man who’d had the photo, the one Brenner had called Atwell, had a black marker and wrote a number on the room’s door, and then the same number on each of their wrists. Billy, as well as Max and Steve and the rest of the nerds, got a big black 9.

When they got into the cafeteria, Brenner was there, and had them line up along two walls. Atwell counted them, and announced, “92.” Brenner nodded.

Flo and Cal had apparently prepared a simple dinner, and while they were doling out food for everyone, Billy caught Flo’s eyes. “Hey Flo”, he said under his breath when it was his turn to get food. “Do you need any help? Like, with the dishes? Pots and pans, maybe.”

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, and he gave her a nervous smile as he whispered, “I’m on kitchen duty, after all.”

She seemed to understand that there was something he wasn’t saying, but thankfully didn’t mention it. She only glanced at the closest armed guard and said, loudly, “You can help with the dishes when you’re finished eating. Don’t think you’re getting out of kitchen duty just because the school is overrun with terrorists.”

Billy grinned. Flo was the greatest.

“Yes ma’am”, he said without an ounce of sarcasm, as he gave her a two-fingered salute.

Billy sat down at the nearest table, in the middle of a bunch of young kids who looked terrified of him. He didn’t mind them; just shoveled the food into his mouth and swallowed mechanically, and as soon as he had eaten half of it, he took his tray and went to put it in a tray cart. It was almost full already, from this morning, so he brought it with him to the kitchen. Just before he got there, though, someone yanked him back by the collar of his shirt and he was thrown into a wall, face first.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He could feel cold metal against his neck, and it was easy to guess what it was. He kept his hands up and away from his body.

“I–“

“He’s on kitchen duty.” Flo’s voice. Wonderful, _wonderful_ Flo. “He’s helping with the dishes after every meal, he cleans the pots and the pans and scrubs the floors, things like that.”

The metal disappeared, and Billy dared to turn his head a little. The guard still had his gun aimed at him, but he was looking between Flo and Billy. Billy swallowed and said, “It’s a punishment.”

Flo raised an eyebrow. “Well? Don’t just stand there, Billy, get to work.”

The guard still looked hesitant, but after a shrug from Brenner he nodded for Billy to continue. Billy ignored the looks from half the cafeteria, and took the tray cart again and entered the kitchen, heart beating fast in his chest.

When he got into the kitchen, he glanced over at the emergency exit. The lock was destroyed, and not only that, but there were also orange wires attached with tape to the door – they snaked over the windows and out into the cafeteria. Billy didn’t doubt that something would blow up if he tried to tamper with it. No wonder Brenner hadn’t seemed worried at letting him in here alone.

He started working on the dishes, and made sure the pots and pans were soaking. Twice, he saw the guard peek in through the round window in the door before he seemed to decide that Billy really was only working, like he was supposed to be doing. Billy pretended he didn’t see him, and only after a few minutes had passed did he dare to get closer to the corner of the kitchen. He put some of the dishes on a metal cart and rolled it over there, and then he quickly opened the hatch and put down a plate – with the food he hadn’t finished, along with two pieces of bread from someone else’s tray that he’d swiped – and a pitcher of water on the second step of the stairs. He also dug up a piece of paper he’d kept in his back pocket and threw it down there, before he closed the hatch again. He thought he’d seen a light move at the bottom of the stairs, but he didn’t dare risk speaking out loud. Quickly, he closed the hatch and put the carts back to cover it, before he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and shook his head as he eyed the pots and metal containers that were soaking in the soapy water.

“Disgusting …” he muttered, but had no choice but to get to work.

 

* * *

 

Jane heard someone open the hatch, and her head snapped up in the darkness. She fumbled for the flash light – she’d had it off, to save on the batteries, but now she flipped it back on – and turned it toward the stairs. But no one came, and no one spoke. Instead, the hatch closed again. After a minute or so, she dared to move closer and shone her flashlight up the stairs. It only illuminated the hatch, closed again – but at the top of the stairs, there was something that hadn’t been there before. She cautiously went up the stairs to see what it was.

It was food, and water. She wasn’t very hungry; after a bit of exploring she’d found the hole in the wall behind the crates, that led to the other room – the one that looked more like a cave than a storage room or a cellar, and that smelled like dirt. In there, she’d found the stash of snacks that Billy had told her about, as well as some sodas and a crate of beer.

She hadn’t touched the beer, but she drank a soda when she got thirsty.

So the food and water was nice, but what made her heart beat faster was the note. She brought everything with her and sat down on the crate, absent-mindedly tearing into a piece of bread as she held the flashlight up so she could read it.

 _Stay here_ , it said. _Brenner’s men have taken over the school. They CAN’T find you. Do NOT come out, or you’ll put everyone in danger. Keep hiding. I’ll bring you more food and water when I can. Take whatever you want of whatever you can find down there. Keep safe. Don’t worry, it’ll work out. I’ll write again when I can. – Billy. PS. Don’t touch the mouthwash._

She looked up, frowning. Mouthwash?

 

* * *

 

The phone in the police station had been ringing constantly with various updates for the staff, and Hopper learned to ignore it, but at one point the officer who’d stayed behind came up to him and pushed a button on the phone on his desk, and held out the receiver. “The Chief wants to talk to you.”

He took it, and almost hit himself in the face with it in his haste to answer. “This is Jim.”

The Chief’s voice sounded tinny. Bad reception, or maybe he didn’t call from a landline. “I just wanted to update you on the situation. The staff was released earlier, with the exception of Scott Clarke, Florence Larkin and Calvin Powell.”

Hopper felt as if someone was squeezing his heart. Releasing most of the adults but keeping the children? That couldn’t be a good sign. “Why would they do that?”

“Presumably because kids are easier to control.”

Hopper couldn’t help it. He snorted in dry amusement, which turned to dread when he considered it. “Oh God. This isn’t good. If the kids freak out and no one’s there to calm them down …”

“I know. But Hopper, that’s not … that’s not all. When they were released, they … they brought a body with them.”

Hopper’s mouth went dry, and he suddenly found himself sitting down in the chair – although he was pretty certain he’d been standing up, just now. His hands were shaking. “Who?” He couldn’t recognize his own voice.

“Ben Hammond. The security guard.”

“Oh God. Oh _God_.” Hopper couldn’t breathe. “Benny.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I spent last Thanksgiving with him and his wife. Have you … have you told her yet?”

“I have an officer on the way now.”

“She … she’s probably not home. She works at the hospital. You should check there.”

The Chief cleared his throat. “We will. I’m sorry, Hop.”

A silence followed, in which Hopper stared blankly in front of him, eyes glassy. For a minute, he thought that the Chief had hung up on him, but when he heard the other man draw breath, he screwed his eyes shut.

“What?” he groaned. “Do you have more bad news? Because I don’t think I can handle it at this point.”

It was a poor attempt at levity, which fell flat at the Chief’s next words.

“It’s probably nothing”, he said. “But it’s something you should be aware of.”

“What?”

“Someone from the U.S. Marshals Service just called. It seems they’ve temporarily lost Jane.”

Hopper let out a sound that was half a cry of disbelief, half hysterical laughter. The Chief hurried to explain, “They think that she simply ran away from them. But they have people out looking for her, so you don’t have to worry. Just, they wanted me to ask you if you had any idea where she’d be headed, if she wanted to hide.”

“She’d go back to Hawkins.” Hopper was sure of this. All her friends were there, and it was the one place where she would feel safe.

“Back to school? Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“All right. I’ll tell my men to be on the lookout for her.” A pause, then, “Again, I’m … sorry. We’re doing all we can, here.”

“I know.”

“I have to go. I’ll keep you updated.”

And the line went dead. Hopper found himself with the receiver pressed against his ear, even as the minutes passed. He only snapped out of it when there was a commotion at the front desk. Blinking and dragging his hand over his face, he looked over and locked eyes with Joyce Byers – eyes wide with fear and determination while she was trying to push past the receptionist.

“Hop!”

Hopper licked his lips and straightened up. Waved at the receptionist – “Let her through!” – and prepared himself for a long evening.

 

* * *

 

It was almost six o’clock when Billy got back to the room he was forced to share with the others. Flo had made him go back and forth between the kitchen and the cafeteria, collecting trays from all the tables while everyone watched him. A couple of older students – some of which Billy had beat in a fight when he first started here – even had the nerve to snicker at him when he walked past. He glowered at them, but this was hardly the time to do anything about it. So he clenched his jaw and endured it, reminding himself that it was for a good cause.

Flo kept him busy for more than 40 minutes after everyone else had left – swabbing the floors and wiping off the tables once he was done with the dishes – and Billy was pretty sure that the only reason why he was allowed to stay was the fact that he was obviously not happy about it.

A punishment, in deed.

Still. When Flo sent him on his way, she patted his cheek and snuck an apple into his hand.

“Same thing tomorrow then?” she asked, and it was more of a statement than a question. She definitely knew something was up, but also knew enough not to ask. Billy could appreciate that.

“Sure thing, Flo”, he said. “See you tomorrow.”

“If God’s willing and the suspenders hold”, she replied sagely.

So what if she was a little weird? It probably came with age.

He showed the 9 on his wrist – which has faded after doing all those dishes – to the guard who was stationed outside the kitchen, and the man motioned for him to continue on his own. He did, while eating his apple. At the beginning of the corridor where they were all staying, another guard was stationed. Billy held his arms up so the number was visible, and the guard just nodded at him to go to the right door.

When he entered, he was met with a barrage of questions. He glared them all into silence until he’d closed the door behind him, and then he hissed, “What are you, crazy? There’s a guard in the hallway, do you want him to hear you?” He then put his ear to the door to see if anyone was coming to see what all the noise was about, and only relaxed after a while when no one came.

“Did you see her?” Mike asked as soon as Billy turned around again. “Is she okay?”

“I didn’t speak to her”, Billy said. “I left her a plate of food and some water and a note. I saw her moving, though. She’s still there, so you can relax, kid.”

Steve, who was sitting on one of the beds and leafing through a comic that probably belonged to Dustin, asked, “What took you so long?”

Billy grinned. “Why, were you worried about me, Harrington?”

“Yeah”, Steve replied and watched as Billy’s eyebrows rose on his forehead. “I was worried that you were gonna get us all in trouble.”

“Cute.” Billy walked over to the other bed in the room and threw himself down on it, not caring that Max and Lucas were sitting on it already, and ignoring their protests. Max hit him with a pillow, but he just stole it from her hands and put it behind his head, grinning.

“I’m calling dibs on this bed.”

“You can’t call dibs on it”, Dustin called, outraged. “It’s literally my bed! In _my_ room!”

Billy nodded toward the other bed, where Steve was sitting. “Then whose bed is that?”

“Freddy’s. He’s in another room now.”

“Good. That means _that_ bed is free for you guys to fight about. Because I’m not moving from this one.”

“Asshole.” It was said under his breath, but Billy heard it and gave Dustin a wolf-like grin. Dustin scowled at him.

“So”, Billy said. “What have you guys been up to while I was scrubbing floors? Tell me you’ve come up with some kind of plan.”

Both Dustin and Mike opened their mouths at the same time, but Steve said “No!” loudly and gave Billy a warning glance. Apparently he’d missed some kind of discussion.

“What do you mean, ‘no’? We can’t just sit here, we have to do something.”

“No, we don’t”, Steve said. “We can wait for the _professionals_ to handle this, and not risk fucking it up and get everyone killed!”

Billy sat up and glared. “So we’ll just sit here like obedient dogs and do what we’re told while that guy is putting bombs all over our school?”

“Newsflash, Billy – the bombs are already all over the school”, Max commented drily.

“I _know_ that, Maxine”, he drawled in reply. “And I’m not saying we should mess with any explosives or anything – I’m just saying we should do _something_.”

“And what would that be?”

“I don’t know – contact the people on the outside?” He turned to Dustin. “Hey, kid, do you have a flashlight?”

Dustin looked offended. “ _Of course_ I have a flashlight.”

Billy grinned. “Then we can contact the people on the outside. Does anyone know morse code?”

No one spoke, and Billy’s face fell. “Seriously? Not _one_ of you nerds know morse code?”

“Well you don’t know it either!”

“I’m not a nerd.”

“Even if we _did_ know morse code, what would we tell them? ‘There are bad guys here and they have guns’?”

Will spoke up, carefully. “Maybe … maybe we could start with collecting information?” He faltered a bit when everyone turned their attention to him. “I mean, so that we have something to tell them. Like who these people are and how many and … the bombs and what weapons they have and … all that stuff. That seems important.”

“Yeah!” Dustin said excitedly. “And then we can give that information to the guys outside, and then they can get in here and rescue us!”

Mike nodded along and spoke over Steve, who’d opened his mouth – no doubt to protest – “Yeah, and that way we won’t be doing anything dangerous, Steve. But we’d still be _doing_ something. And the sooner they rescue us, the better.”

Billy nodded along approvingly, and raised his eyebrows at Steve as if to say ‘See? Even your little nerds agree with me’. Out loud, he said, “It’s a good plan.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“So is being in this fucking building right now!” Billy exclaimed and threw his arms out. “Like the kid said; the sooner we’re out of here, the better. And if we can give them information that they can use, everyone wins.”

He dug through the pockets of his jean jacket – which he’d left in the room when they went for dinner – until he found half a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He lit one and leaned back against the pillow.

“Uh”, Dustin said worriedly. “You can’t smoke in here.”

“Says who?”

“Me. It’s _my_ room. Besides, it’s against school rules!”

Billy laughed. “What are they gonna do? Kick me out?”

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, say that we do this. We’re going to need to gather a lot of information, without anyone noticing that we’re doing it. And then we’ll need to figure out a way to get that information to the outside – _also_ without anyone noticing.”

Mike drew himself up and locked eyes with everyone in the room except for Billy.

“Party meeting!” he declared loudly, and then glared in Billy’s direction before he reluctantly added, “And Billy, I guess …”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: "If God's willing and the suspenders hold" is a direct translation from Swedish ("Om Gud vill och hängslena håller"), and it's something a co-worker of mine use to say.


	4. Chapter 4

In the morning, when they were called to the cafeteria for the first count of the day, Steve was tired. To say that he hadn’t slept well would have been an understatement; after all, seven people sharing a room made for two people was just not comfortable. Seven people sharing one bathroom was even worse.

They had stayed up late last night, planning. What information they were going to need, who were going to do what, and also loosely preparing for how they were going to get the information out, once they had it. The latter, they only had a vague idea of so far, but it was better than nothing.

Steve had spent the night on the floor, wrapped in a blanket. Billy had taken Dustin’s bed, as he said he’d do, but he actually agreed to forsake the blankets and pillows, which surprised just about everyone. Will and Mike slept in the other bed, since they were the only ones who could agree to share without complaints. Max and Lucas curled up on the floor, on all the pillows that they had been able to scrounge up (Freddy, Dustin’s roommate, had a couple of extras stashed on the top shelf in his closet), and Dustin slept back to back with Steve, lying on a pile of clothes that he ripped out of his closet. Dustin fell asleep quickly, but then proceeded to kick Steve throughout the night, until Steve gave up and moved so he was lying by the window instead. It was colder, but at least kick-free.

Another advantage of moving had been that if he turned so he was facing the wall, he wasn’t as bothered by the light that shone in through the window in uneven intervals – apparently someone on the outside had decided that it would be a good idea to have searchlights slowly moving across the school’s façade at night. Steve would have liked to have a word with that person, because it made it harder to sleep. Dustin’s room didn’t have curtains.

So in the morning, none of them were very well rested when someone banged on the door and said that they’d have 15 minutes to get to the cafeteria. Each room was equipped with a small bathroom, but it only held a toilet, a sink and a couple of shelves – no showers; they were in another part of the building. Which was just as well, actually, because they wouldn’t have had time for it anyway.

So, Steve walked into the cafeteria with the rest of them, and let himself be counted, feeling neither fresh nor particularly alert.

After they’d been counted, they were told again – by Atwell, this time – that they would have to be back in the cafeteria every hour, on the hour, when the bell rang. If one of them didn’t show up, five people would be shot. Other than that, the man gave them access to the quad (which would apparently be guarded at all times), and any areas between the cafeteria and the corridor where they were sleeping, as well as the showers – girls would be able to shower before lunch, and boys after lunch. They were not to touch any doors or windows, or things would go boom. The same went for the wires that ran through the school.

And so, it was a couple of minutes after eight when they finally sat down for breakfast. The difference from their last meal was that this time, Billy sat with them at their table for a while. It was only for a couple of minutes, though, and he didn’t speak with them once. He scarfed down his food like he was starving – making Mike throw disgusted looks his way – but he didn’t even finish all of his food before he stood up to put his tray away. Steve had an idea as to why. Testing his theory, he handed Billy his own tray as well, and looked up at him with an innocent look.

“Do you mind, Billy?”

Billy glared at him at first, but then he noticed that Steve had left a whole orange and half a sandwich on his tray, and gave him a calculating look. Steve only smiled at him and raised his eyebrows. Billy’s lips twitched, and he bent his head slightly, before he replied sarcastically, “As you wish, princess.”

Billy took Steve’s tray and managed to “accidentally” hit him in the head with it as he passed. Steve swore under his breath and rubbed his head, and then watched Billy as he sauntered into the kitchen. He hesitated by the doors, but the same guard who had had him pushed up against the wall yesterday just nodded and motioned for him to pass, so he did. Steve was left at the breakfast table with the kids, and when everyone had finished and put their things away, he followed them out into the quad. He had some networking to do, after all.

The first people he went over to talk to was Tommy and Carol. They were standing off to the side, smoking together and watching the younger kids carefully venture out on the grass. Carol was the first to see Steve approach, and she nudged Tommy in the side to get his attention.

Things had been kind of frosty between them since Steve basically ditched them for Nancy – and he never really found his way back to them even when Nancy and him split up – but things like armed terrorists taking you hostage had a way of putting things into perspective. It was definitely time to bridge the gap.

“Hey”, Steve said when he’d walked up to them. “Are you guys doing okay?”

They watched him warily, until finally Tommy gave half-nod, half-shrug and offered Steve a cigarette. Steve took it and accepted a light from Carol, who was the one to answer.

“Yeah, we’re good”, she said and twisted her arm so that he could see the matching 3’s on their wrists. “At least we’re rooming together.”

Steve snorted. “I pity the rest of your roommates, then.” And just like that, the ice was broken, and they spent the rest of the hour talking and casually catching up.

 

* * *

 

Hopper had finally managed to convince Joyce to go home and rest, after she’d been staying at the station the whole night. He had her phone number, and had assured her that he would call her with any updates the minute he heard anything, and also that she could come back later if it made her feel better.

He hadn’t expected to be on the receiving end that discussion just a couple of hours later.

The Chief came back to the station before lunch, and when he found Hopper still there, finishing up with the last of the phone calls, he promptly told him that there was a break room in the back where he could get some sleep.

“But–“

“No buts, Hop. The FBI are in charge now, and they have both of our numbers. I’ll make sure they call the station immediately if something happens. Get some sleep.”

“I–“

“We need the desk space, Hop. Get out of here.”

And what could he say to that? He was exhausted. A few hours of rest would do him good.

 

* * *

 

Operation: Information Gathering (Steve vetoed Lucas’ suggestion, which was Operation: Cracking Skulls – _“Because no one is cracking any skulls, Lucas, what the hell”_ ) was underway and going well. Tommy and Carol knew a lot of people in school and Carol had always made it a point to know everything about everyone – she wasn’t a gossip, she just collected all the gossip she heard and filed it away for future use – so Steve’s talk with them had resulted in a lot of useful tidbits.

Like the fact that Brian Seltzer had been taken aside yesterday and been told to bring a tray of food to the men who had apparently set up some pretty heavy artillery in the bell tower. He was missing after breakfast, too, so he’d probably been sent on another food run.

After the nine o’clock count, Steve talked to Brian directly, and Brian confirmed this. He also said that his roommate Mark had been sent to the terrorists stationed in the attic, and two other guys had also gotten trays and disappeared somewhere else. He pointed one of them out to Steve, who spent the rest of the time before lunch casually speaking with some people, under the guise of asking how they were doing. Jonathan was actually one of them. He was brought up to speed on their plan for information gathering, and after he’d made sure that it wouldn’t lead to any danger to Will, he offered to help in any way he could. There was probably always going to be some lingering awkwardness between Steve and Jonathan, but they had been civil with each other for months now. And this was definitely a situation where you’d put aside your differences and work together.

Mr Clarke held outdoor classes with the younger kids between counts, and altered between two age groups. Just before lunch, Dustin, Max, Lucas, Will and Mike were forced to sit through a lecture on European History – which was not only as far from Mr Clarke’s subjects as it could be, but also very dull – and the kids kept sending Steve despairing looks. Steve suspected that Mr Clarke had just grabbed the first book he could get his hands on, and was doing his best to try to keep things normal. And honestly, if the man could get the kids to roll their eyes and sigh while being guarded by gruff men with guns, then Steve privately thought that he was doing a pretty good job.

When the kids weren’t being subjected to schoolwork, they milled about the quad with the rest of them. Lucas and Max had joined in with a bunch of guys in the class above them who were playing soccer, Dustin had brought his brightly-colored plane out onto the stairs and was painstakingly repairing something or other on it, and Will and Mike were sitting together on the grass. Will had a sketchbook out, and if someone went past and glanced down they saw random doodles on the page while Mike disinterestedly looked out across the lawn.

It was all going according to plan. Steve was networking and gathering information. Lucas and Max were talking to their peers, and also moving around the quad – and if they happened to not-so-accidentally shoot the ball at one of the guards once or twice and then sheepishly got closer to them to ask for it back, then to an outsider, that was just a coincidence. Dustin was sitting still, but he had placed himself on the stairs, so that he had a good view of one of the packages with wires running out of it that was taped to a wall, and Steve knew that he had a paper and a pen that was snapped in half in his pocket, so he could copy the way it looked (and hopefully figure out how it worked, even though that was maybe asking too much of the kid). Will was drawing the people he saw – the three guards on the quad, and also Brenner and Atwell. He was the best artist out of all of them, after all, and could at least draw out their most recognizable features. Mike sat beside him, guarding him. If anyone got too close, he discreetly cleared his throat, and Will switched page to his doodles.

And Billy? Billy had been commandeered by Flo to help both before and after the meals, and while he looked grumpy as hell having to do it, Steve knew that it actually helped them. For one, he could access the cellar and sneak things down to El, and also he was apparently one of the kids that had been sent off with food trays at breakfast.

At one o’clock, it was time for lunch. They were counted – Brenner was always there for the count, and Atwell was always the one doing the counting; lining everyone up alongside two walls in the cafeteria, and not letting them move until they’d made sure there were still 92 of them – and then allowed to pick up food in an orderly fashion.

Billy slammed his tray down next to Steve and looked thunderous. Steve smiled at the sight of him – he hadn’t even bothered to remove the apron he was wearing.

“Fancy seeing you here, Billy.”

“Shut the fuck up, Harrington, I’ve been peeling potatoes for over an hour. Flo is a slave driver. I’m pretty sure everyone here knows how to peel their own goddamn potatoes. She’s just doing it to punish me.”

“Yeah”, Steve said. “Pretty sure kitchen duty _is_ a punishment …”

Billy looked to the side and lowered his voice. “How’s it going?”

Steve glanced around. No one seemed to be listening, and the only people close to them were Max and Will on either side of them, and Jonathan on the other side of the table. “Good. Progress. You?”

Billy made an affirmative noise in the back of his throat and swallowed a mouthful of barely chewed potatoes, just before Flo called his name and pointed at a couple of trays that was standing on the counter; Brian was already taking one of them as a guard watched over him.

“Delivery time”, Billy muttered and pulled the apron over his head.

“Need help?” Steve said, innocently.

Billy visibly fought against a grin. “Sure. Whatever.”

Steve got up as well, and threw his balled-up napkin at Jonathan’s face. “C’mon Jon.” Jonathan must have been listening, because he got up without protest, and the three of them got to Flo before she could call up anyone else. Steve turned on the charm when he got to her.

“Billy told us you needed help, Mrs Larkin?”

“Don’t you ‘Mrs Larkin’ me, Mr Harrington, it makes me feel old.” Steve grinned – no one knew exactly how old Flo was, but it was generally acknowledged that she could have retired years ago but had chosen not to. “Now make yourself useful and take this tray to the gentlemen in the infirmary. And make sure to get back here with the empty tray from this morning. Now, shoo.”

Steve took the tray under the watchful eyes of the silent guard standing by the wall, and heard her send Jonathan to the roof on West Hall before he exited through the doors. He and Brian – who gave him a slightly puzzled look at having basically volunteered for food delivery service – walked together until they got to the stairs, where one guard unlocked a door which would take them to their respective destinations. Soon after this, they parted ways, and Steve continued on until he got to the infirmary on the third floor. Cautiously, he balanced the tray in one hand and knocked on the door with the other.

The door opened abruptly, and Steve backed up a step and almost dropped the food when the man on the other side pointed a gun at his face.

“Hey, no, wait, I’ve got food!” He held the tray up higher, in case the man hadn’t seen it, and breathed out a sigh of relief when the man nodded and took a couple of steps to the side, letting Steve in.

Steve went inside and tried to absorb as much information as he could while pretending that he was only looking for a good spot to put down the tray. There were two men in the room, and they looked like they’d made themselves at home. One of them was sitting by the window, holding his rifle casually in his hands and only throwing a disinterested glance at Steve when he entered. There was a big kind of gun set up on some kind of stand, and another big gun casually thrown onto a cot. His blood ran cold at the sight of them, and his eyes flickered nervously when he also caught sight of what was most definitely hand grenades, placed neatly on a table next to a backpack.

The man who had opened the door jabbed him in the back with his gun, and he finally caught sight of the tray from breakfast, standing on a counter along the wall furthest from the door. He hurried there to switch the trays, and then murmured something along the lines of, “Okay, uh, enjoy”, before he hightailed it out of there.

The whole time he was walking back, he was doing his best to commit every detail he could to memory, so that he could add it to their file later. When he got back down the stairs, Brian had apparently already passed, because the man who’d let them through before locked the door after him and told him to go back to the cafeteria. Lunch was over, they had another count – “92”, “Good” – and then they were released into the quad until the three o’clock count. Billy was held back to help with the dishes, so Steve set out to find Will and Dustin, intending on describing what he’d seen while it was still fresh in his mind.

 

* * *

 

When Hopper stumbled out of the break room that evening, rubbing his eyes, he found that the station had transformed into a hub. There were people everywhere; police officers, official-looking men in suits, reporters and parents. It was a bit overwhelming, as there had been maybe five people there when he’d gone to sleep. In a corner in the other end of the room he could see Joyce standing by the window, chewing on her thumbnail, and he blinked the last remnants of sleep from his eyes and headed over to her. She saw him and met him halfway.

“Oh Hop! Have you heard anything?”

“Joyce”, he greeted. “No, I haven’t. Hang on a minute, stay here, let me ask around.”

It took some time, but he eventually located an officer who recognized him, and who told him that someone named Crawford, who was apparently now in charge of this particular operation, had set up camp out of sight of Hawkins, and had requested that Hopper join him there at his earliest convenience. The military was apparently involved, now, so it would be easy to find someone who could drive him there.

Before he was even halfway through explaining this to Joyce, she nodded and said, “I’m going with you.”

“Uh, I’m not sure if –“

She glared at him and there was ice in her voice as she repeated, “I’m going _with_ you, Hop.”

And Hopper knew enough not to pick battles that he had no chance of winning, so he just nodded tiredly. “Of course. But Joyce? Let me do the talking, okay?”

She nodded, and when a jeep drove up in front of the station to pick them up, they both got in. The driver gave Joyce a look, but decided not to comment. Smart man.

‘Camp’ was the right word. Tents had been set up, and there were a lot of people milling about, as well as both military and civilian vehicles parked all around the area. Behind it all, Hopper could even see two helicopters standing ready in the middle of a field of grass. And behind it all, the woods in which the school was located. The whole scene looked surreal.

“Crawford is waiting for you over there, Mr Hopper”, the driver said and indicated the biggest tent, before he turned to Joyce. “You can wait here, ma’am.

Joyce opened her mouth to protest, but Hopper gave her a look and raised his eyebrows. “Let me handle it, Joyce. Wait here.”

She reluctantly nodded, and went to stand where the driver had indicated. Hopper walked over to the tent, and since no one stopped him, he went right in.

Five men were standing around a table, pointing at a map, and Hopper caught the tail end of their conversation, “–troops in observation positions around …”

The man talking trailed off when Hopper entered, and all of them turned to him. One tall, gray-haired man in a suit took a step forward. “Are you Jim Hopper?”

“I am.”

The man held out his hand. Hopper shook it.

“I’m Deputy Assistant Director Robert Crawford.” He turned to the other men in the tent and continued, “This is Jim Hopper, the headmaster.” That was apparently all the introductions that were needed, because then he walked back to his place at the table and nodded to the man who’d been talking when Hopper entered. Hopper ventured closer.

“As I was saying”, the man continued, “I have troops in observation positions around the perimeter of the school, and an assault force at a staging area five minutes away. My orders are to assist you with observation and surveillance, and plan a possible joint assault with your people.”

“Wait”, Hopper said. “’Assault’?”

The man turned to Hopper. “Okay, short version; There’s an unknown number of terrorists with .50-caliber machine guns on the roof … and anti-tank rockets.” His voice hinted at his displeasure. “There’s about three miles of perimeter around the campus, and they have weapons that can sweep that whole area.”

Crawford continued, “While we hope that this will come to a peaceful end, we have to prepare for all eventualities. And if the information that we’ve gotten is correct, and Brenner has the means to blow the whole thing up, then an assault will most likely lead to casualties. It is not something we’re planning to do right now, but we have to keep our options open.”

“And that’s where you come in, Mr Hopper. You have the most knowledge of this place and the people under its roof. We have the information you’ve written down, but I’d prefer it if you were around to ask, if needed.”

“Oh”, Hopper said. “Of course.”

The men nodded, and returned their attention to the map while making space for Hopper. “Can you take a look at this and tell us if this map is up to date?”

 

* * *

 

That evening, the hallway guard had to re-draw the 9 on Billy’s wrist, since all the time with his arms stuck in water had almost worn it off. The guy even had the nerve to look amused about it, so he’d probably seen Billy in the kitchen. Billy forced himself to give a grin and a shrug, even though it was fucking humiliating. But when the guy opened the door to Dustin’s room, he didn’t use as much force as he could have when he pushed Billy inside. Billy figured it was some kind of pity over his kitchen duty predicament.

The others in the room looked up as they entered, and Billy had to hold his breath to keep laughter from bubbling out of his mouth. The guard gave them all a lazy glance before he closed the door behind Billy, and Billy could finally snort out a laugh.

“What?” Lucas, who was closest to him, asked, looking affronted.

“You guys are so lucky that he didn’t look too closely at you.” Billy said and yanked the magazine that Dustin was seemingly reading out of his hands. The magazine that he’d been holding _upside down_. “You are horrible at pretending to act normal.” He raised his eyebrow at Mike, who was standing by the window, holding a half-dead potted plant in both of his hands. Mike, face coloring in embarrassment, put the plant back – and that seemed to be the sign that whatever meeting they’d been having before he came in, was to be resumed.

Will and Max pulled out whatever papers they’d apparently shoved under the bed furthest from the door, and Steve stood up from the other bed where he’d been lying – and posing ridiculously, Billy might add.

“Okay, so what’ve you got?”

Max handed him a stack of different kinds of papers. There were drawn schematics of what they’d been able to make out of the bombs, with descriptions of the wires and where the bombs were placed – at least the places where they were allowed to go during the day – curtesy of Dustin. There were drawings and descriptions of the armed men, that Will had done, and Lucas and Max were just now pointing at them and naming them.

“That one’s George, that one is Carlos –“

“He doesn’t speak much English.”

“– and the others called that one Vic? I think?”

“Yeah”, Max said. “He smiled at me when I asked for the ball back, and then George shouted at him and then he stopped smiling. I think he’s the youngest one?”

Lucas nodded and shrugged. “Might be.”

Billy took a couple of the papers and held them out. No masterpieces, but there was definitely a likeness to the people they were supposed to represent. He glanced down at Will and commented, “Good work, kid”, making Will beam up at him.

“Okay”, Steve said. “There’s two of them in the bell tower, and two more in the attic.”

“One of the ones in the attic has long hair in a ponytail”, Billy added. “The other has a beard and looked older, maybe 40-45? I didn’t catch their names.”

Steve nodded as Will added it to the papers. Steve continued, “There were two in the infirmary. They looked pretty alike, actually? Maybe family. Both had brown hair and brown eyes. One had a moustache. And then there’s two on the roof of West Hall. Jonathan just left the tray by the hatch, so he didn’t get a good look at them, but he said that one of them had a missing finger on his right hand? Maybe? I mean, he wasn’t sure, but he said it looked like it. Either that, or he was holding his hand in a weird way.”

“I’m writing it down as a maybe”, Will said and looked for the right paper to make the note on.

“Okay”, Steve summarized. “That’s eight. Plus the three on the quad, that’s eleven. Plus Brenner and Atwell, that’s thirteen.”

“And the guy with the glasses!” Max said. “He’s trailing Atwell or Brenner around, and I saw him twice in the hallway today.”

“That’s fourteen”, Steve said. “I think that’s everyone. Or did we miss anyone?”

No one spoke up, so Steve nodded. “Okay, now … weapons. Will?”

Will picked out the correct papers and put them on the bed so everyone could see them. On it, he had sketched out what the guards’ weapons looked like, and Steve had tried drawing the ones he saw in the infirmary – but added written notes, because his sketches were awful. Hell, even Billy could have done a better job than that, probably. On another paper was a couple of neat but bare drawings of some kind of gun on some kind of stand, and when Billy peered at it he saw that it said West Hall Roof. Probably made by Jonathan, then. He frowned at it.

“What are those?”

“Uhm”, Will said. “Jonathan said he thought they were some kind of machine guns?”

“And those?” Billy said and pointed to the other sketch on the page.

“Some kind of rocket launcher …?”

Billy whistled and raised his eyebrows. “Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s a lot of firepower”, Steve agreed. “Even if we manage to get this info to the people on the outside, and they attack, that’s enough to keep them at bay for a long time …”

“Yeah, and Brenner’s gonna blow us all up before that”, Max said sullenly. “So we’re fucked either way.”

Billy opened his mouth to say something stupid, like ‘Watch your language’ or something, because Max’s mother hated when she cursed, but then he froze. Narrowed his eyes, still with his mouth open. Lucas watched him with suspicion, but Billy ignored him and turned to Steve with a raised eyebrow. Steve frowned back. “What?”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Harrington?”

“Uh. Probably not.”

“The cellar.”

Billy watched understanding dawn on Steve. He drew in breath and started nodding. Lucas looked between them as if they were crazy. “What are you talking about?”

“The cellar where Jane is!” Steve said.

Billy continued to explain, “It’s big enough. We could hide everyone there, somehow, if the people outside were to attack! Then we’d be safe from the bombs, at least.”

“But if the bombs go off …”

“There’s no bomb in the kitchen”, Billy said, enthusiastically. “The back door is locked and full of wires, but there’s no actual bomb. The closest one is in the cafeteria, and the cellar is … like really old. And there’s this room behind it, that if you crawl through a hole there you end up even further out, under the lawn somewhere, and the walls are crazy thick.”

“How does that matter? It’s not like we’re gonna be able to just walk down there anyway?”

“No”, Steve said, nodding to himself and seemingly warming up to the idea. “We’d need a distraction.”

“Dude”, Billy said and gestured with his arms. “An attack from the outside is the _perfect_ distraction.”

“Okay, okay …” Steve stood up and started walking and waving his hands around. “So they’d have to attack while we were all in the cafeteria.”

“During a count, or during a meal”, Billy agreed. “And then we take down whatever guards they leave us with, when the action starts, and we get everyone down in the cellar, and then they won’t have any hostages and we can just come out when the whole thing is over!”

“But Brenner still have the remote detonator”, Max said. “He can press that button at the first sign of trouble, and then we’re toast!”

Billy frowned and looked around the room. “Hm. Yeah.” His eyes landed on Dustin’s plane, and he got lost in thought.

When he didn’t have an immediate answer, the mood of the room changed from excitement to something a little more somber, and they quietly resumed what they’d been doing. While Steve turned to Will to describe the weapons he’d seen and get help in improving the sketch, Billy caught Dustin’s eyes and nodded toward the front of the room. Dustin scowled, but followed him to the door. It was clear that he still didn’t put a lot of trust in Billy, which – okay, fair. But these were special circumstances, and Billy had an idea and he needed answers.

“Your plane”, he said.

Dustin raised his eyebrows. “Yes?”

“How do you control it?”

“With a –” Dustin caught himself, and his mouth formed a little ’oh’ in understanding. The kid wasn’t stupid, at least. “– _remote_ _control_ …”

Billy nodded. “Yes, okay, and _how_ does that work exactly?”

“Oh!” Dustin went to pick up his plane and turned it upside down to show Billy the underside of it, where there was a little square of plastic that could be removed – and suddenly he didn’t seem to be so averse to being in Billy’s presence. “The plane has this chip in it, see? And the remote control has another chip –“ He pointed at the remote control where the chip was located. “– and it sends signals to the plane, telling it to move the way I move the controls.” Billy frowned as he looked at the little chip that Dustin was indicating.

“So basically … this chip sends radio signals to your plane?”

“Yup.”

“And Brenner, that thing he’s got around his arm – is has the same kind of chip in it?”

Dustin shrugged. “I mean, yeah, it should be the same.”

Billy grinned and his eyes lit up. “So we switch the chip!”

At his enthusiastic outburst, the rest of the room’s inhabitants turned to them, and Steve made a face and walked over. “What do you mean, ‘we switch the chip’?”

Billy rolled his head exaggeratedly. “ _Excuse me_ , me and Dustin here were having a conversation.”

Dustin shrugged apologetically, and Billy decided to play nice. “Okay, since you’re here. Dustin, tell him what you just told me.”

Dustin did, and when he was done the others had come closer as well.

“So we switch the chip”, Billy repeated. “Then he can’t control the bombs!”

“We _can’t_ switch the chip”, Lucas said. “He’s got it around his wrist!”

“So … we knock him out first.”

“We can’t, are you _stupid_?” Mike said. “He’ll blow us all up, and they’d shoot us before that anyway.”

Dustin cleared his throat. “Actually, there’s another thing we could do …” If he noticed that all attention was suddenly on him, he didn’t let it show. He picked up the plane again and turned it over. “The chip _sending_ the signals is in the remote control – or around Brenner’s wrist. But there is a _receiving_ chip in the plane, and there should be one in the detonator, too. Somewhere, Brenner’s got the detonator, and that one’s got to have a receiving chip.”

“So …?” Steve prompted, frowning.

“So”, Dustin continued, “We could switch the receiving chip in the plane, with the receiving chip from the detonator.”

“It’s probably in Hopper’s office”, Max commented. “He’s there all the time, and Rachel said that she saw Mr Clarke follow him in there before.”

“Great!” Mike said, sarcastically. “So all we have to do is to get Brenner out of Hopper’s office, somehow. Bypass all the guards, switch the chip without setting anything off, and then sneak out without being seen. Easy.”

“Yes! Exactly!” Billy grinned, and slapped him on the back.

Mike glared at him. “I was being _sarcastic_.”

Billy’s grin didn’t dim. “You shouldn’t have been, you should have been writing it down. This could work.”

Mike and Steve and Lucas started protesting at once, but Dustin spoke over all of them.

“Guys! As much as I hate to agree with _him_ –“ He motioned at Billy, who made an exaggeratedly affronted face. “– it could actually work. I mean, there’s a hell of a lot of details to figure out, but _in theory_ , it could work.”

“You’re my new favorite”, Billy stage-whispered to Dustin, who looked like he regretted his words already.

“We could at least _try_ to figure it out”, Will said, “and write it down and put it with this.” He held up his random stack of papers.

“Speaking of which”, Billy said and grinned at Dustin, who was still holding the plane. “I think I just figured out how we’ll get that out there between counts.”

Dustin looked uncomfortable and hugged the plane closer to his chest. “Why are you looking at me like that? It’s freaky. Stop it.”

Billy’s grin widened. “Remember how we said we’d need to distract the guards at West Hall …?”


	5. Chapter 5

Hopper was currently wishing that he’d been taken hostage with the rest of the school population. Everything else was preferable to sitting here, in front of a room full of angry and scared parents, side by side with the Chief, Crawford, and two of the other men who’d also been in the tent with them earlier, and whom Hopper still hadn’t learned the names of. Possibly he hadn’t been listening too closely. Just as he wasn’t listening too closely right now – the Chief had informed the parents of the current situation, and Hopper had assured them that everything was being done to get their children out of this unharmed. So far so good, but then Crawford had stood up to introduce himself, and it was like a switch being flipped. The room exploded with questions and accusations, as if Crawford – as an outsider – was personally responsible for what had happened.

“Why don’t we just pay the ransom?”

“Yeah, give the guy what he wants!”

Crawford held out his hands in an effort to calm everyone down, and Hopper grimaced. It was more likely to have the opposite effect.

“First of all”, Crawford said loudly, to be heard over the pandemonium of the room, “your children haven’t been kidnapped, so there’s no ransom to be paid. They are being held hostage by terrorists, and it is United States policy not to accede to terrorist demands.”

A skinny woman in an expensive-looking dress stood up. “Well that policy will just have to change!”

“Yeah! We’ll go to the White House if we have to!”

Someone else in the other end of the room stood up. “My family isn’t rich, we don’t have any influence with the White House. My son’s on a full scholarship to the school!”

“So is my daughter!”

“We should talk to the press.”

The Chief stood up with a sigh, and strangely his presence seemed to have a calming effect on the room. “No one will talk to the White House. No one will talk to the press. I know this is difficult for you, but you could be putting your children in even greater danger. Please, let the professionals handle this …”

Crawford took the opportunity to sit down on Hopper’s other side, a frown on his face. Hopper felt the need to comment.

“So. That went well, I think”, he said with raised eyebrows.

Crawford ignored the sarcasm – he leaned in closer and said, under his breath, “Are you aware of the fact that Georgie Hill is in this room?”

Hopper let his eyes roam over the people in the room until he saw the man Crawford was talking about. “Yeah.”

“And are you aware of that he’s the head of the biggest mafia family in the States?”

“Well … Yes.”

Crawford raised an eyebrow. “And yet you allowed his son into your school?”

Hopper scowled in reply. “Of course. It’s not the boy’s fault who his father is.”

Crowley turned his attention back to the room when the Chief sat down again. “Just checking.”

 

* * *

 

After the meeting, an older man in a suit, followed by three other men also wearing suits, went out to the parking lot. They were among the first people out, since they had kept close to the door. The three men looked around them attentively, prepared for anything, while the older man got in a black car which was parked right outside. Inside it, yet another man was waiting for him.

“Mr Hill”, the man greeted.

Georgie Hill nodded. “John.”

“I’m sorry about all of this.”

“Me too. Have you seen the news?”

“Of course.”

“This Brenner character, he’s trying to get his old man released. Do we have someone in with the guy?”

“Yes sir. We have the Campbell brothers, and Ben Kelley’s serving time there now.”

“Good. Reach out to them, as fast as you can. Tell them to get to the old man and explain about my son.”

The other man, John, nodded. “Consider it done, Mr Hill.” He bent his head in respect before he exited the car. One of the other men who’d waited outside got in instead, and the car drove off.

 

* * *

 

The next day brought with it a flurry of activities for everyone involved in Operation: Information Gathering – made more difficult by them having to keep it on the low-down and not show anyone what they were doing. Steve, Jonathan, Brian and Billy brought the breakfast trays to the terrorists placed around the school, and afterwards Billy took Brian aside and asked him if he could get his friend Mark to do it again after lunch, instead of Billy.

“Why?” Brian asked, hesitantly.

“Don’t you worry about that”, Billy said. “Just bring him with you to collect a tray at lunch, okay? I doubt they’ll care who does it, as long as it’s done. Come on, man, I’ll owe you one.”

As he got Brian to agree, he glanced up and saw Steve talk to Jonathan, as he also needed to be brought up to speed on the next part of their plan.

So when lunch rolled around, Billy made sure to stay in the kitchen and look busy when it was time to take the trays up – if Flo noticed, she didn’t mention it – and when the food had been delivered and they’d all been counted to Atwell’s satisfaction and were released back into the quad, it was ten to two. Seventy minutes to the next count. It was the best chance they were going to get.

As they left the cafeteria, Billy heard Steve say to Flo, “There was a mixup with the food – there was only potatoes on one of the plates, so … uh, they wanted another plate?” Billy held his breath, because this was a gamble, but he saw her nod tiredly out of the corner of his eye, and exhaled in relief as Flo started preparing another plate. Steve stayed and waited for it, and caught Billy’s eyes as he was leaving, giving him a small nod.

When Billy got out onto the lawn, Max and Lucas met him by the bottom of the stone stairs that led from the school and out into the quad. Lucas held a soccer ball under one arm, and Max was acting normal – which meant frowning at everyone around them. Mike, Will and Dustin came through the doors a minute later; Dustin was carrying his plane and a little tool kit all wrapped up in a towel, and Will had his sketchbook and a couple of pencils. They all gathered by the side of the stairs, where the guards couldn’t see them – unless the one standing on the stairs leaned over the railing – and Will handed Billy a folder which contained all the information they’d gathered, as well as their rough idea of a plan, and any notes and sketches they’d thought were important enough to include. Billy took it and stuffed it down the back of his jeans, and then pulled his shirt over it to hide it from view.

“Okay, you got until exactly 45 minutes past the hour to get back to the trees”, Dustin said.

“That’s the big hand on the little nine”, Mike said snidely.

“Shut up, twerp”, Billy said and grimaced before turning back to Dustin. “I’ll be there.”

“Wait until they look the other way. Now, and when you get back.”

“Got it.”

Max frowned at him, looking like she wanted to say something, so he shot her a shit-eating grin. “Go and kick a ball, you little shit.” It worked, in that it made her half-concerned frown turn into something more annoyed, and she snatched the ball out of Lucas’ hands.

Dustin handed Billy the towel and walked away to sit in plain sight on the grass to tinker with his plane. That left Billy with Will and Mike. They didn’t say anything, but Billy wrapped the towel around his arm and elbow and backed down a couple of steps, so that he was standing by the – locked – door under the stone stairs that lead to the storage rooms and some classrooms they almost never used. The door had glass windows, but most importantly – there were no orange wires attached to it. Probably because you couldn’t reach this part of the school from any other entrance than this one. Will and Mike had turned their backs on him, so to anyone watching, they were just standing off to the side, looking out over the quad. But Billy kept his eyes locked on Mike’s hands, which he held behind his back for Billy to see.

Mike’s fingers were splayed out, and Billy held his breath. When Mike started silently counting down, he readied himself with his elbow raised in front of the window.

Four fingers … three fingers …

If they timed this wrong and a guard heard him, he was going to be in so much trouble.

Two fingers … one finger …

Billy smashed his elbow through the glass. If everything had gone according to plan, Lucas or Max would have broken a window on the garden shed with the soccer ball at that exact moment, and that noise would have drowned out the sound of Billy breaking the glass on this door. If they hadn’t timed it right … well, he’d find out soon enough.

He reached in with his hand through the hole and opened the door from the inside, fully expecting to have the business end of a gun shoved against the back of his head at any second. Miraculously, that didn’t happen, and as he snuck through the door as quietly as he could, he could hear yelling from out on the quad. Apparently, the first part of their plan had worked. Now for the twenty-or-so parts remaining …

 

* * *

 

Steve was carrying a tray with an additional plate on it, and was currently climbing the stairs to get up to the roof for the second time in less than fifteen minutes. He’d been dragging his feet since he’d talked the guard in the hallway into letting him through the door to get to the roof – it’d taken some explaining, too, that there’d been a mistake with the lunch and Flo had sent him with what had been forgotten (which hadn’t _actually_ been forgotten, but scraped off into a potted plant on the third floor) – but he wanted to give Billy enough time to get to the outcrop on the side of West Hall. They’d calculated that it would probably take at least two minutes, probably three, from the smashing of the window. So if Steve was a little bit slower in climbing the stairs, it was only for the best.

When he finally reached the ladder that led to the hatch on the roof, he took a couple of deep breaths. Put the tray on the railing, and shook out his hands and snuck a glance at his wrist watch – which they’d all synchronized this morning.

Exhaling slowly and closing his eyes, he sent a quick prayer to whoever was listening that this would work.

He picked up the tray and climbed the ladder. When he was here, ten minutes ago, he’d knocked on the hatch, not wanting to surprise a couple of jumpy men carrying guns. This time, he intentionally did _not_ knock … and the results were like he’d expected (and feared). He had barely stuck his head up through the hatch when there was a shout from further away on the roof where the men had set up, and when Steve looked over he was met with the two men standing up and pointing at him with their rifles.

“Wh-wait, I’m sorry!” Steve stammered and tried to put his hands up while he was holding both the tray and the hatch. He almost dropped the food, and had to correct his stance so the plate wouldn’t slide off the tray. That made for a fast movement that apparently made the men nervous – one of them came closer while keeping his gun trained on Steve. The other one stayed back, but at least both of their attention was on Steve. Which _was_ the plan, even though it felt pretty damn horrifying at this particular moment.

“Whoa”, Steve said as he managed to stop the plate from falling, and climbed out on the roof. “Here, Flo sent me with the … Last time you missed … They forgot.” He pointed at the trays with the empty plates that were on the roof where the men had been sitting when he first showed up. The plates on those were empty, already.

The guard who’d come closer stopped two steps away from Steve and looked from him to the food and then back to his friend, who shrugged.

“Okay”, he said and nodded for Steve to go on. Steve gave an unsteady smile and started walking over to where the first man was standing. This was the opposite of what he wanted to do; he wanted to keep their attention _away_ from the edge of the roof, not get closer to it.

So when he got closer to the edge, where they had set up behind some stone outcrops, he took a steadying breath and … tripped. Thankfully the metal roof was not smooth, there were ridges all over it that he could trip over. He gave a little shout and stumbled, and watched the first guard’s eyes widen as he backed up a couple of steps.

Steve managed to right himself in the last second, and made a big show out of apologizing to the man, before he put the tray he’d been carrying down and picked up the two that he’d left here just recently. “I’ll just take these at the same time, yeah? I’m sorry.”

He turned too abruptly and managed to walk straight into the guard who’d followed closely behind him, making him drop the trays and their contents. The man growled and tightened his grip on his gun, and Steve played up his fear as he threw up his arms over his face and cowered. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t shoot me. I’m sorry …”

“Jesus Christ”, he heard the man mutter. Then, “Just take it and go, goddamn it …”

Steve didn’t waste any time in picking up everything he’d dropped and then backing away from them both – making sure they kept their eyes on him as he stumbled back to the still-open hatch. “Thank you! I’m sorry, I … Uhm, I’ll go now. Sorry!”

He climbed down the hatch, trying to balance the trays in one hand – dropping a fork on the metal roof with a clang and looking at it as if considering going after it. After glancing at the armed men, who were watching him with blank faces, he decided not to risk it. He climbed down the ladder and closed the hatch. As soon as his feet hit the floor, he leaned his back against the wall and gulped in a few deep breaths. His heart was beating fast in his chest. Overhead, he could hear the men laugh – probably at the clumsy and terrified kid who they’d sent up with the food – and he could only hope that his act had bought Billy enough time to get to the trees. The lack of gunshots was encouraging, at least.

 

* * *

 

Billy had shut the door behind him and ran off down the hallway. Through an empty classroom, into an adjoining empty classroom and out into another hallway. Or, that had been the plan, anyway. He _would have_ gotten out into another hallway, had the door to it not been locked. He cursed out loud when he tried kicking it open and it didn’t work. Frantically, he looked around – the room looked to be an old science classroom, and in a corner was a cardboard box with rolled up posters and some kind of metal … a folded up tripod stand for a screen or a map or whatever. Billy didn’t care what it was, he only cared that it was solid enough to help him get through the door. He hit it against the floor and stepped on one end to bend it slightly – because subtlety wouldn’t help him right now – and then forced it in between the door and the doorway. A little twisting and two good kicks later, and the door was open and he was running down the new hallway. At the end of it was a supply closet, where he _also_ had to force the door open – luckily, it was not solid wood so a couple of hard kicks loosened the handle enough for him to be able to pry it open – and in the other end of that closet, which was filled with various junk, was a small window up by the ceiling, just like Steve had said.

Moving a table to the wall, Billy jumped on it and cautiously opened the window. He heaved himself up, and crawled through it while sticking close to the outside wall.  The window was just in level with the grass outside, so he didn’t even have a drop to worry about. Before standing up, he bunched up the towel he was still carrying, and used it to keep the window propped open. He didn’t want to risk not having a way inside when he got back.

And now for the really nerve-wrecking part. If their info was correct, then he was just under the place where the guards on West Hall were stationed, and he had to run over a hundred yards of open grass without being seen. And he had to trust that Steve somehow kept the guards’ attention on him while he was doing it.

Billy shook his head and bit his lip. This plan involved a whole lot more of _trusting other people_ than he was comfortable with.

He looked at his watch. It was time. He heard something from above him – voices? – and decided to just go for it, because if he didn’t do it now, he might miss his only chance.

So he shot off the wall and ran. He ran as fast he could – faster than he’d ever been during gym class – and with each step he expected hearing a shout or a shot, and for the last thing he ever felt to be a bullet piercing his skull. He was almost surprised when he managed to dive in behind the closest bushes and look back at the building, instead of lying dead or bleeding out on the lawn.

He saw movement on the roof, but when he looked up, the one guard he could see had his back turned. Whatever Steve had done, he’d succeeded. Billy wasn’t about to waste the opportunity he’d been given, so he turned and continued running, although he kept out of sight of the school as much as he could – it wasn’t difficult now, as there were plenty of bushes and trees to hide behind. When he’d gotten far enough into the trees that he was sure they wouldn’t be able to see him anymore, he changed directions and set out for the little creek that ran through the edge of the school’s property. It, in turn, lead him to a storm drain under the wall in the thickest part of the woods.

There was a metal gate with bars covering the entrance to it, and there was a padlock keeping it locked. Billy had bought the padlock himself, though – to replace the last one that he’d used bolt cutters to remove a couple of months back when he and Tommy and Jason wanted to sneak out for the weekend – and also knew exactly where the key was; hanging from a nail on the other side of a tree a couple of steps away. (There was another key on the other side, too, if one came from that direction, which was how Jane had gotten in – she’d seen him sneak back to the school on more than one occasion, so he’d finally showed her the secret entrance one day not too long ago, trusting her to keep it between the two of them).

Now, he unlocked the gate and pocketed the key, and awkwardly shuffled through the storm drain – keeping his arms and feet out to keep from stepping in the water. When he got out on the other side, he picked a direction and started running again. Surely there should be people all around the place, with everything that was going on?

A couple of minutes later, the foliage in front of him moved unexpectedly and he stumbled to a stop – suddenly finding himself staring into the business end of a gun held by … a bush? No. The bush revealed itself to be a camouflage-clad man, and right when that realization hit Billy, someone behind him yelled, “Don’t move!”

Billy didn’t even have time to put his hands up, as whoever was behind him grabbed them and twisted them behind his back.

“Hey, wait!” Billy said and wrenched out of the man’s grip, not caring about the gun that was pointed at his head. “I’m from the school, look!” He yanked the folder from the back of his pants and shoved it at the man who’d tried to restrain him. “Here’s all the information you need about the people holding us. Be careful with it, give it to your boss or whatever. I have to go back.”

With that, he moved to pass the man, but he was stopped with a strong grip around his upper arm. “No, you’ll come with us.”

Billy tried to rip out of the man’s grip, but this time he held on tight. Billy looked up into his face – which was painted green and black. “You don’t understand, I have to get back there before they know I’m gone!”

“Sorry, kid”, the man behind him – the one with the gun – said and took a hold of his other arm. “You’re not going anywhere.”

 

* * *

 

Atwell knocked on the office door right after lunch, and Brenner, who was busy listening to and writing down a seemingly random set of numbers that someone was transmitting over the radio, held up a finger in the universal sign for ‘hang on’. Atwell waited patiently until whoever was on the other end stopped rattling off numbers. When Brenner had written down the last one, he threw his pencil aside and leaned back in the chair.

“Everything all right?” he asked.

Atwell nodded. “Yeah. But there’s footage from here on the news. Thought you should know.”

Brenner stretched his arms as she stood up and turned on the small TV that was standing on a table. He found a channel with news, which was – not very surprisingly – covering the current hostage situation at Hawkins. It was a couple of minutes, though, before they showed the footage that Atwell had been referring to. It was obviously filmed from very far away – maybe from a news helicopter, if a photographer hadn’t actually climbed a really tall tree with his camera – and it showed a shaky and blurry picture of the hallway when some of the kids were walking through it. They weren’t even recognizable, and Brenner chuckled.

“It’s nothing to worry about. It won’t help them. Let the media report about these ‘poor children’ – it will sway public opinion in our favor. It will make them more likely to agree to our terms.”

Atwell nodded. “Okay, if you say so.” He indicated the paper in Brenner’s hand. “Message from your father?”

Brenner gave a little smile and looked down at the numbers. “Yes.”

“I’ll leave you to decoding, then”, Atwell said and moved to exit the room. Brenner stopped him before he reached the door.

“Atwell?”

“Yeah?”

“Cover the windows in that hallway.”

Atwell inclined his head, and exited the room. Brenner sat back down behind the desk and began scribbling on the piece of paper with the numbers.

 

* * *

 

Hopper was just jumping out of a jeep at the make-shift base camp and thanking the driver, when the Chief emerged from behind a couple of crates and walked toward him.

“Hey, Hop, do you have a student named Hargrove?”

Hopper felt himself go cold. “Billy? Yeah. Why, what’s happened?”

“Come with me.” The Chief turned abruptly and Hopper had to jog to catch up to him. “The kid showed up in the woods just now, with a folder full of papers, and was adamant that he had to go back. They brought him here, but he’s making a lot of noise and demanding that we let him go.”

“What? Why?”

The Chief didn’t have time to answer before Hopper heard Billy’s voice coming from inside the biggest tent. He sounded angry, and agitated – not uncommon, when it came to Billy Hargrove. Hopper ripped the tent flap aside and entered, and three people got really quiet and stared at him; one was the military man that Crawford had introduced him to, standing behind a make-shift desk, one was a camouflage-clad man, and then there was Billy. The green-clad man was holding Billy’s arms behind his back, and Billy looked desperate. When he saw Hopper, he took a couple of steps closer, only to be stopped by the man holding him.

“Hopper!” Then he twisted his body and turned a scowl on the man behind him. “Let _go_ , goddammit!”

Hopper glared at the green-clad man. “Let him go!” The man glanced at his boss first, to Hopper’s irritation, but at his nod, he let go of Billy who immediately took the few steps remaining to stand in front of Hopper.

“You have to tell them to let me go!”

“You can’t go back”, the man behind the desk said. “They’ll kill you!”

“That’s _my_ fucking problem, not yours!” Billy snarled, and turned his attention back to Hopper. “If I don’t get back, they’ll kill five people.”

“What, no, we can’t …”

“ _Sir_! You have to let me go. _Please_.”

Hopper shook his head. “We can’t send you back there when there’s armed men –“

“Jane is fine, by the way.”

That threw Hopper off, as was probably Billy’s intention. “What? Where is she?”

“I hid her in the cellar outside the kitchen. I’m sorry.”

“Wha–?” Hopper made a face. “Why are you _sorry_?”

“Sorry about _this_ ”, Billy said, and then his fist hit Hopper right in the nose. Pain exploded behind his eyes and his arms flew up to cradle his face. He felt, more than saw, Billy fly past him, and then he was pushed forward, right into the arms of the camouflaged man who’d made to run after Billy. It took them a few seconds to untangle themselves, during which Hopper was swearing profoundly and blinking tears out of his eyes after the punch. When they finally gathered themselves enough to get out of the tent, it was to see another green-clad man getting up from the ground, and Billy driving off in a jeep.

Hopper’s groan echoed that of the other man, who’d just exited the tent to watch the first green-clad man drag his buddy up into a standing position. “Well, _go after him_!” They scrambled to get into another jeep, and he turned back to Hopper. “Are you all right?”

Hopper dabbed at his nose only to discover that yes, he was bleeding. Frustrated, he wiped it off with his hand and looked out into the field where two men were running toward the helicopter, which was just starting up. In the other direction, he could see the jeeps; the one with Billy in it, and the one in pursuit of him.

Half of him hoped that they’d get to Billy before he could make it back to the school, and the other half hoped that Billy would be able to outrun them. He swore, and turned on the spot to find somewhere where he could clean up.

 

* * *

 

At 2.42 am, Dustin made quite the show of being done tinkering with his plane. At 2.43, he had called his friends to his side, and they were interestedly watching it and loudly complimenting it. At 2.44, he started the engine, and Mike helped him by holding it and running a couple of steps before letting it go to get it started. It spluttered to life in the last second and almost dipped to the ground, but then it gained speed and altitude, and soared up into the sky.

Dustin steered it over the quad, to the delight of his friends and classmates. More than one person stopped what they were doing to watch the yellow toy plane fly over their heads.

More importantly, though, and completely according to plan, it drew the attention of the guards on the roof. Steve had placed himself in the complete opposite end of the quad, so he could get a glimpse of the roof, and he thought he saw movement over West Hall. That would have to mean that the men there would have moved closer to the quad – and away from the outer edge of the building – just in time for Billy to be able to run back across the open space. Steve caught Lucas’ eye across the lawn and gave a little nod, and watched as he turned to say something to Dustin. Dustin nodded and steered his plane even higher, and closer to the roof of West Hall.

Then there was a shout, and Steve saw Atwell standing on the stairs. He looked pissed, and yelled something at one of his men, who started jogging toward the kids. Steve took a couple of steps closer, but he didn’t have to worry. The man only gestured toward the plane, and Dustin nodded and calmly landed the it on the grass. When it touched the ground and stopped moving, the guard picked it up and snatched the control from Dustin’s hands, and handed them both to Atwell.

Steve frowned. They may still need that plane, if their plan was to work, so this was a complication. But then he checked his watch. 2.48. At least Billy would have had plenty of time to get back. Their distraction had worked.

He gave the kids a little smile as he casually walked back toward the stone stairs, to await Billy’s return. They had to discuss what to do about the plane, if the people on the outside decided to go with their plan.

 

* * *

 

Billy was cursing up a storm. He cursed the people who wouldn’t let him go back, he cursed the ones who were after him, and he cursed the car he was currently in. He wasn’t even that good a driver, but ripping an unsuspecting man from the driver’s seat of a jeep and stealing it seemed like his only option at the time. And now, with another jeep closing the distance between them, he had to admit that he wouldn’t have gotten far on foot. Still, he had to lose them somehow, and fast! He stepped on the gas and bounced in his seat as the jeep drove over uneven ground.

When he got closer to where he knew the storm drain entrance was, he took a sharp left turn behind a couple of trees and jumped out of the car as it continued rolling down a hill. He threw himself behind a couple of bushes and ran down the hill in another direction. He heard the car in pursuit follow behind the jeep, and only hoped that it bought him enough time to get back.

When he reached the storm drain, he was flat-out running. He lost his footing, and fell into the water with a splash, ending up drenched from head to toe.

“Shit, shit, shit”, he muttered as he shook his head to get the water out of his eyes, but he didn’t have time to stop and worry about it. He had to get _back_!

When he finally dove down on his belly behind the bushes, on the other side of the lawn and with the school building just a short sprint away, he looked at his watch. 2.56. He’d missed the distraction. The men on the roof were visible from where he was laying. They were standing guard and looking out over the surroundings. If he ran, they’d spot him immediately.

_Shit._


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be as good a time as any to remind any reader who has come this far that this story does, in fact, contain violence.

Steve was frowning. Max was pacing. Dustin was trying – and failing – to look like he wasn’t glancing at the door with the broken window every ten seconds. Mike’s eyebrows were drawn together in a scowl, and he muttered under his breath, “He’s not coming.”

“Shut up”, Max hissed and punched him in the arm. “He’s coming.”

“He should have been here by now. He abandoned us!”

“Hey”, Steve said. “I’m sure he’s coming.” But he was frowning, too.

Just then, the bell rang, indicating that it was three o’clock and it was time to go back to the cafeteria to be counted. People started moving toward the stairs, and Steve gritted his teeth. This was not good.

“He fucking left us here!” Lucas growled, just as a guard saw them standing around and motioned for them to get moving.

“I knew we couldn’t trust him!” Mike said, under his breath. “What do we do now?”

Steve didn’t answer. He threw one last look at the doorway – which was still empty – and walked behind the kids back into the school building.

 

* * *

 

Hopper didn’t let anyone shoo him out of the tent, when he came back from cleaning the blood off his face. One man tried, but Hopper glared him into submission and said, “That’s _my_ _student_ out there, who you’re looking for”, and Crawford’s military man, who’d been talking to Billy earlier – and Hopper was just going to go ahead and call him Dick, because he _looked_ like a Dick – nodded, so Hopper was allowed to stay. They were in constant contact with the crew on the helicopter and in the car, and although the men in the car had apparently lost sight of Billy (Hopper still didn’t know if he was happy about it or disappointed), the helicopter was still searching.

 

* * *

 

“87 … 88 … 89 … 90 … 91.” Atwell turned to Brenner, who was frowning. “91.”

“Count them again.”

 

* * *

 

Billy had heard the bell, but the men on the roof hadn’t moved so he couldn’t run. Now, he heard the _thump thump thump_ of a helicopter’s rotors in the air behind him, but he didn’t take his eyes off the men on the roof, because _they_ heard the helicopter, too. They stood at attention and gripped their weapons, and one of them brought out binoculars.

Maybe … maybe this was his chance of making a run for it.

 

* * *

 

“91.” Atwell leaned in closer to Brenner and said, in a low voice, “One of them’s missing.”

Brenner clenched his jaw and glared at the kids lined up in the cafeteria.

“Count them _again_!” he yelled, just as his radio crackled to life. He ripped it from his belt and growled into it, “ _What_?”

“There’s a helicopter hovering over the trees.”

Brenner took a deep breath and dragged a hand through his hair. “Is it over the wall?”

“I don’t know …”

“Shoot it down.”

He didn’t wait for whoever it was to acknowledge the order, only turned back to Atwell with an expectant look on his face. “ _Well_?”

Atwell was startled into moving, starting his count for the third time.

 

* * *

 

The men on the roof had set up some kind of machine gun, if what Jonathan had said was true, and now they were aiming it at the helicopter. Billy saw that one of them was manning the gun, and the other was watching through the binoculars, and figured that he wouldn’t get a better chance than this.

So again, he ran. He heard shots overhead but he kept running. He ran so fast that he didn’t have time to slow down when he reached the building, but hit the wall hard. He crouched by the window and ripped out the towel, and as he wormed his way in through the window, he glanced up over the trees. Smoke was billowing out from the side of the helicopter, and it made a sharp turn in the air and disappeared from view. To crash or to retreat, he didn’t know.

He didn’t have time to worry about that, though. He slithered the rest of the way through the window and hit the table, jumped down on the floor and started pulling off his wet clothes. He threw the door open and ran, taking off the rest of his clothes and throwing them to the side while moving; gripping the towel in one hand.

 

* * *

 

“91.”

Brenner took a deep breath, and turned to face the people in the room.

“I told you what would happen if one of you went missing.” His voice was deceptively calm. “Did you think I was _lying_?” Several people jumped as he screamed the last word.

He turned to the people gathered there. Pointed at Mr Clarke. “You. Face the wall.”

One of the armed men gripped Mr Clarke’s shoulder and made him walk to the wall by the door, where he was made to touch the wall with both hands up.

Brenner continued to walk down the line of people. “You.” Freddy, Dustin’s roommate. “You.” Amy, a girl the same age as Steve. “You.” Mark. “And you.” Jonathan. As each person was called, other people made noises of protest, but there were weapons being pointed at them and there was nothing they could do. The people chosen were led to the wall and made to stand next to Mr Clarke, with their backs turned on the rest of them.

“Remember this”, Brenner said grimly. “Remember what will happen when you don’t obey me.”

Just then, they could all hear a ruckus from the hallway, and running footsteps. Brenner held up his hand to halt the man who’d raised his gun, and everyone in the room collectively held their breath.

And Billy Hargrove ran into the room with such speed that he slid on the floor and bounced off the doorway, hair wet and wearing nothing but his watch and a towel around his waist that he was gripping with one hand.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He held up his hand as Atwell pushed him back against the wall, gun under his chin. “I was in the shower, I didn’t hear the bell ring …” He was breathing hard and letting his eyes roam over the room – swallowing when he met Jonathan’s wide eyes from the other side of the doorway.

Atwell’s hand shot out and grabbed him by the hair, yanking his head to the side. He turned to Brenner. “His hair is wet.”

“I’m sorry”, Billy repeated and licked his lips, chest heaving.

Brenner nodded to the man who’d been ready to shoot five people just seconds ago. The man lowered his gun, and must have read something in the look Brenner gave him, because he walked up to Billy and grabbed him by the arm, just as Atwell let him go. Brenner walked out of the room, glancing down at Billy as he passed. “You. Come with me.”

Billy had no choice, as the other man started walking and basically dragged him along. As they left the room, he heard Atwell say, loudly, “Okay, it’s over. Get back outside, and be sure to be back for the four o’clock count.”

 

* * *

 

Brenner walked down the hallway toward the headmaster’s office. He didn’t look back once; apparently confident that Billy and his guard was following. Billy was walking behind him, the guard’s hand still around his arm. He was holding the towel in place with one hand, and was trying to will his heartbeat to slow down; it was still hammering like crazy after everything that had happened.

When they entered Hopper’s office, Brenner walked behind the desk as if he belonged there, and the man holding Billy let go of his arm to stand by the door. Billy stood there awkwardly, a couple of steps from the threshold, while Brenner calmly sat down in Hopper’s chair.

“Name?”

“What?”

Brenner leveled him with a look. “What’s your name?”

Billy frowned. This didn’t sound like the beginnings of a scolding. “Billy, uhm, I mean William Hargrove. Look, I’m sorry abou–“

“Be quiet.”

There was something unnerving about Brenner, up close like this. He was deceptively calm, but he had already proven that he could explode at the slightest provocation. Billy recognized that kind of man – he’d had a lot of past experience in dealing with someone similar. So he stood still, and kept his mouth shut, hoping to avoid escalating the situation.

Brenner reached out for a pile of folders on the desk, and unhurriedly went through them until he apparently found Billy’s. He pulled it out, and raised an eyebrow at Billy at the thickness of it. Billy knew better than to comment. When Brenner leaned back in the chair and unhurriedly started reading through Billy’s file, Billy found himself fidgeting. He glanced back at the man behind him, who stood in front of the door and looked like he was bored of it all. Billy looked away. He was very well aware of the ventilation hatch in the ceiling above the desk, but he didn’t dare draw attention to it by looking straight at it. Instead he carefully turned his head to glance around the room. A lot of orange wires had been drawn through a recently-made hole at the bottom of the door, and they were all attached to a contraption that stood on a little table next to Hopper’s desk. That thing had to be the detonator.

More importantly, though, was the sight of Dustin’s plane lying discarded in a corner. Billy frowned at that – they weren’t supposed to confiscate it, and he wondered if that would make their plan easier or harder to execute, if it came to that. Had the kid been able to take the chip out before they took the plane from him? And had he gotten in trouble over it? Now, Billy usually didn’t hold much love for Max’s friends, but he found himself hoping that the kid hadn’t been punished for his part in their plan.

His head snapped up when Brenner put the folder down and cleared his throat. “So … Billy.”

The man behind him gave Billy a push, and he had no choice but to walk up to the desk. Him standing there, wearing only a towel, and Brenner sitting in Hopper’s chair, seemingly without a care in the world, was like a sick parody of the last time Billy had been here. Then, he’d thought he’d been in trouble with Hopper over his vodka-mouthwash, and was worried about being expelled. Now, he was in the kind of trouble that could get him shot and killed. He swallowed, but didn’t speak.

Brenner smiled and held up Billy’s folder. “This is a thick file. You’ve been expelled from three schools in the last two years. Gotten in a lot of trouble. Fights, property damage, bullying …” He turned his head to the side, watching Billy intently for a couple of seconds, before he switched topics abruptly.

“Your father, he is a Senior partner at Hargrove & Epps accounting?”

Billy wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but. “Yeah.”

“He works a lot, I suppose?”

“… yeah?”

“Does he not have time to deal with his son’s transgressions?”

That hit a little too close to home for Billy, who opened his mouth – but quickly closed it again. He looked down and to the side.

Brenner stood up from the chair and leaned on the desk. “Tell me, Billy. What does your father say about your behavior?”

Billy furrowed his brow. He did not like where this was going. “What?”

Brenner waved him over and held up the file, pointing at something in it. Carefully walking around to the side of the desk so that he’d be able to see what Brenner was showing him, Billy glanced down on the page. It was a letter from the headmaster of his last school, addressed to Hopper. Billy clenched his jaw as he read a couple of sentences. He knew that Mr Bauman had never liked him, but he didn’t know that he literally wrote to Hopper to _warn_ him of Billy. Brenner tapped his finger on the letter.

“The behavior that this file describes, Billy. What does your father say about it?”

Billy straightened up and his eyes darted up to Brenner’s before he looked down at the desk. “I don’t know.”

“Does he approve of it?” Brenner made a motion at the guard who was still behind Billy, and then continued, “Three schools, Billy. What does your father think of that? Hm?”

Billy frowned. Why was Brenner so hung up on his father? “He doesn’t … He doesn’t like it. Sir.”

For some reason, his answer made Brenner laugh. Billy didn’t dare meet his eyes.

“You know”, the man said, “If I had engaged in this kind of behavior when I was your age, my father would have beat me bloody. And he would have been right to do so.”

Billy felt sick.

Brenner continued. “Young men today, they just don’t show their elders the respect they’re owed. But maybe it’s not the children’s fault. Their parents are at least partly to blame, for failing to teach them properly.” He took a step closer. “Do you have anything to say … Billy?”

Billy licked his lips. “I’m sorry about the shower thing. I’ll be more careful next time.”

Brenner laughed. He sounded genuinely amused, which only made the hairs on the back of Billy’s neck stand up. “Oh Billy …” Without any warning, his hand shot out and grabbed Billy by the neck. Billy didn’t have time to react except for raising his hands at the last second as Brenner slammed him down on the desk, face first. His chin hit the wood, sending a jolt of pain through his head, and he screwed his eyes shut. In the next second, Brenner was bent over him and speaking quietly into his ear. “I don’t think you’re sorry at all. But you will be. Michael?”

Brenner let go of him, but the other man – Michael – put a heavy hand on the back of his head to keep him down, and the other around Billy’s right wrist; pinning it, too, to the desk. Billy’s eyes snapped open in time to see Brenner reach for something. He heard the rattle of pens against porcelain and couldn’t make sense of it.

“I’m going to do you a favor today”, Brenner continued, in that smooth voice of his. “One that you’re going to thank me for one day. I’m going to teach you respect.”

When Brenner stepped back into Billy’s field of vision, he held a telescopic metal pointer in his hand, and he extended it slowly while staring at Billy. Billy, in turn, looked from Brenner to the pointer and back again. Realization set in; this was going to hurt.

“Oh shit”, he breathed, and watched as Brenner’s face went from calm and smiling to cold and uncompromising in the blink of an eye. The man raised his arm and brought the pointer down on Billy’s unprotected back with as much force as he could muster, and Billy couldn’t help the strangled yell that was ripped from his throat as it hit. A second later, it hit him again, this time over the shoulder blades. Billy squirmed on the desk, but he was being firmly held down and couldn’t move. He fumbled with his free hand to get a grip on something, _anything_ , and his fingers accidentally brushed against Brenner’s leg. That was enough for Brenner to make a frustrated noise and grab Billy’s wrist and brace it against the desk while he raised the pointer for yet another hit.

Billy couldn’t breathe. He’d experienced more than his fair share of pain in life, but never like this. He was being held down, kept immobile, while someone deliberately hurt him. Brenner was beating him relentlessly, with a fury that was frankly terrifying. Billy cried out at the first couple of hits – after that, he clenched his teeth together and tried to keep quiet, but the hits kept coming and the pain was getting worse and he couldn’t draw breath properly and still Brenner didn’t stop. At a particularly hard hit, Billy cried out again, and after that, he just couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

Every hit hurt worse than the last one, and he lost count of how many he’d received. His cries turned to whimpers, which turned to sobs, and still Brenner _wouldn’t stop_. Billy was panicking. Tried again to yank free of the men’s grips on him, but he was punished for it with a curse and another hard hit – delivered with so much force that the pointer broke over Billy’s right shoulder blade. He heard a part of the metal clatter against the desk, and then to the floor.

Brenner let go of Billy’s hand so he could run his finger over the broken edge of the pointer, and he was frowning as if it had disappointed him. Billy was just grateful for the brief respite in the assault. His newly freed hand shakily found the edge of the desk, and he gripped it tightly to somehow steady himself. His fingernails had scraped into the lacquered surface of the desk, and his cheek was pressed against it as he gulped in a few lungfuls of air and tried to blink the tears from his eyes.

Brenner made a little _hmm_ :ing sound, and Billy looked up at him, heart beating wildly in his chest. Brenner was weighing the pointer in his hand, and as if he felt Billy’s eyes on him, he looked down at him. “Have you learned respect yet, Billy?”

Billy nodded – it was made difficult by the hand on the back of his head which was holding him down – but Brenner _tsk_ :ed and raised the broken pointer again. Billy raised a shaking hand. “No, no, plea–” He broke off when it hit his back once again – and this time he could feel the jagged end tear at his skin. He cried out at yet another hit, and gripped the side of the desk, and desperation made him yell, “Yes!”

Four more hits, during which he couldn’t keep quiet or stop the tears from falling, and then Brenner was leaning over him, tilting his chin up with the end of the pointer. “What was that, Billy?”

And Billy had played this game before, just never on this level. He knew what was asked of him.

“Yes, _sir_ ”, he managed, shakily.

Brenner threw the broken pointer down on the desk in front of Billy’s face, making Billy flinch. The guard – Michael – still didn’t let him up though, so Billy was still pressed to the desk when Brenner sat down in Hopper’s chair, right in front of Billy, and casually lit a cigarette. He took a deep drag and tilted his head back to blow out the smoke in a long exhale. Billy was busy trying to get his breathing back under control, and his whole body was shaking. His back felt like it was on fire.

His breath hitched when Brenner leaned in, and held the cigarette loosely between his fingers close to Billy’s face. Billy instinctively tried to draw back, but the guard, Michael, wouldn’t let him move an inch. So when Brenner lightly rolled the lit cigarette against Billy’s cheek, to get rid of some ash, all Billy could do was to hiss at the pain of it. It only touched him for a second, but that was enough to burn his skin and make his eyes tear up again. He squeezed his eyes shut and whimpered.

“You will not be late again”, Brenner stated and leaned back in his chair. Billy opened his eyes again, just in time to watch Brenner throw a folder down on the desk, put the cigarette back in his mouth, and open the folder. He drew out a photograph, which he held up in front of Billy’s face. “Or the next time, _she_ will be the one to pay the price.” The picture was of Max; the black and white photograph from her school file. “Do you understand me?”

Billy held his breath, and frantically nodded, as much as Michael’s grip in his hair would let him. In case nodding wasn’t enough, he managed to croak out, “Yes sir” and not make it sound sarcastic. Anything, _anything_ to get this over with and get out of here in one piece and keep this man from touching Max.

“Good”, Brenner smiled.

And promptly put out his cigarette on the back of Billy’s hand.

 

* * *

 

Steve followed the rest of them outside, and it was a relief to get away from the cafeteria. That had been way too close for comfort. What had happened? Why had Billy been late? Had he honestly risked all of them for a _shower_? Steve was shaking, and he hadn’t even been the one who’d been threatened with execution.

He looked out over the quad. Jonathan was sitting on the stone steps with Will at his side, their heads down. Normally, Steve would have expected the other kids to be crowded around them, but he supposed that after a scare like this, even they knew to give the brothers a little privacy. Instead they had gathered around Freddy. It figured, he was Dustin’s roommate and their friend, after all.

Amy, the only girl that had been chosen to be shot, was standing off to the side, in the arms of her boyfriend Scott. Steve knew him well, he used to hang with him a lot around the time when he was best friends with Tommy. Mark, who was also a part of their little group of friends, was standing next to them, his hand on Amy’s shoulder. Steve decided to make his way over there, to make sure they were okay. They may not be best buddies anymore, but he considered them on friendly terms, still.

“Hey”, he said tentatively when he got closer. “Are you guys okay?”

Amy was still crying, but nodded. Mark, wide-eyed and pale after the scare he’d had, cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

Scott was embracing Amy, and his eyes were dark. “I’m gonna fucking kill Hargrove for this, man.”

Steve abruptly remembered that Scott had been one of the people that Billy had taken down when he’d first gotten here, and there still seemed to be some resentment there. Of course, it _could_ just be the fact that Billy was the reason why Scott almost had to watch his girlfriend and his close friend get gunned down in cold blood. Steve could understand the anger.

He wanted to explain, to tell them what Billy had been doing – but it was risky, to let more people know. And besides, he didn’t know what had happened. Billy should have been on time. He didn’t know what happened, but he knew that the distraction with Dustin’s plane went according to plan, and that had been Billy’s only chance to get back. It would _not_ have taken more than twenty minutes for Billy to get back to the cafeteria through the corridors of the school. He should have been on time. Unless something unexpected happened. Or – Steve thought, frowning – unless Billy actually stopped by the showers when he got back, for whatever reason.

There was no use speculating. He wouldn’t know until he talked to Billy and heard his side of the story. So he gave Scott an awkward nod, patted Mark on the shoulder and drifted back toward the kids, his stomach in knots.

He was … not worried, perhaps, but concerned. Brenner had been furious when there had been a missing student, but when Billy had shown up, the man had calmed down. He had already shown that he could snap at any time, though, and now he’d taken Billy away. Sure, Billy had fucked up big time, but Steve didn’t actually want him to get hurt, or killed, over it.

 

* * *

 

Billy was walking, somewhat unsteadily, down the corridor toward the showers. He could sense Michael a couple of steps behind him, and knew that the man was holding the gun pointed at his back. He tightened his grip on the towel, and gritted his teeth as it made the burn on his hand twinge with pain. His back hurt, too, and he did his best to ignore the pain. He didn’t know what it looked like, but it bothered him to walk in front of Michael, with whatever injuries he’d sustained on display. Injuries that Michael had helped cause.

He was also more than a little worried about what would happen when they got to the showers and didn’t find his clothes there. Brenner had, after Billy’s scream had quieted, tossed the cigarette butt aside and then calmly told Michael to get Billy dressed and take him back to the others. Michael had yanked Billy up by his hair and shoved him in the direction of the door. Billy had staggered, and cradled his injured hand in his other hand, and almost dropped the towel before they’d made it out into the corridor. Brenner hadn’t even looked at Billy as he left.

So what was Michael going to do when Billy’s clothes weren’t where they were supposed to be? Billy swallowed as they entered the showers. Time to improvise.

He made a show of looking around the room, then turned around to face Michael with a bewildered expression on his face.

“I don’t … they’re gone.” Michael’s eyes narrowed at him, and Billy licked his lips. “My clothes. Someone must have taken then.”

He took an instinctive step back as Michael took a step forward. “Who’d wanna take your clothes?”

“I don’t know. Everyone can come here, anyone could have–“ He flinched back when Michael raised a hand, but it was only to grab him by the shoulder and steer him out of the showers.

“Where’s your room, kid?”

Breathing out a sigh of relief and pretending that it was a normal exhale, Billy answered, and then proceeded to lead Michael to his and Jonathan’s room on the second floor. When they got there, Michael opened the door and pushed Billy inside with the barrel of the gun to his back, making Billy hiss in pain and stumble.

“Get dressed”, Michael said gruffly. “You have one minute, and then I’ll drag you out of here no matter what you’re wearing.”

Billy watched him for a couple of seconds, hoping that the man would give him some kind of privacy, but Michael just raised an eyebrow. “Clock’s ticking, kid.”

Billy turned to rummage through his closet, and emerged with a pair of jeans. He snatched up a dark blue T-shirt that he’d thrown over the back of a chair a couple of days ago, and scrounged up a pair of underwear and socks. He hesitated before dressing; Michael was still watching his every move. Face burning, Billy awkwardly tried to get his underwear on while still holding on to the towel. His hand hurt and made it difficult, but he finally managed. He dropped the towel and carefully put on his jeans, then his socks, and a pair of beat-up sneakers that were kicked halfway under the bed.

“Ten seconds.”

Biting his lip, Billy pulled the T-shirt over his head – ignoring the way the skin on his back stretched and burned – and snatched up a shirt to pull over the T-shirt, just before Michael grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the room. Just before they left, Billy yanked a bandana down from a hook by the door and began wrapping it around his hand as they walked down the corridor.

His clothes were in disarray, his shoes weren’t tied, and he could only imagine how messy his hair would look – but he was alive, and relatively unhurt, and that was enough for now. He silently let Michael guide him back towards the cafeteria, and didn’t complain even though the next count wasn’t for at least twenty minutes.


	7. Chapter 7

The next time Steve saw Billy was at the four o’clock count. The relief at seeing him casually leaning against the wall by the bathroom door in the cafeteria told him that okay, maybe he had _been_ a little worried after all. Not that he cared, or anything. Just. That whole thing, it had looked bad. He’d had had the better part of half an hour to imagine all kinds of bad things happening; from Billy spilling his guts about their plan to save himself from punishment – and Brenner coming after Steve and the kids for it – to Brenner shooting Billy dead, point-blank.

But here Billy was, looking entirely too calm for having caused such a scene just an hour ago, and wearing different clothes than the ones he’d been wearing the last couple of days (they weren’t allowed to go to their old rooms, so the only people who had access to a change of clothes were the younger kids, whose rooms they were currently crammed into – Dustin had shared his own clean clothes with his friends, but those were too small to fit either Steve or Billy). Strangely, Steve felt a tendril of irritation run through him at the sight of Billy standing there, seemingly without a care in the world – how dare he stand there and look so unaffected? – and he wasn’t the only one.

Steve barely reacted when someone brushed past him, and by the time it had registered that it was Scott, it was too late to do anything. Steve had time to see Billy glance up, and his eyes widen, before Scott punched him square in the face. Billy went down hard and Scott looked ready to go after him again, but by then Steve had gotten to them and held Scott back by his arms.

“Hey man, calm down!”

Scott didn’t seem to hear him. He didn’t take his eyes off Billy, who was getting back on his feet, holding the side of his jaw.

“You’re a fucking asshole, Hargrove”, Scott continued, loudly, and pointed at Billy’s face. “Five people could have _died_ because of you!”

Someone else came up to them and took Scott’s other arm – Steve looked to the side to see Tommy – and together they yanked Scott back another step. Steve chanced a look around the room. More than half of the students were already in the cafeteria, watching the events, but Steve was more worried about the terrorists. One of them – the one who had walked off with Billy and Brenner an hour ago – was standing off to the side with his hands resting on his gun. He was watching them, but strangely he didn’t lift a finger to stop the altercation.

Also strangely, Billy wasn’t arguing. Steve would have expected Billy to reciprocate, with words or fists, but he only straightened up and threw a cautious glance at the guard before he leaned an arm against the wall, in a way that was probably supposed to look casual.

Scott stopped struggling in their hold, and backed off with “You’re dead, Hargrove!” as his parting words. Tommy caught Steve’s eyes, and they wordlessly decided to split up. Tommy backed away with Scott to the other end of the room, from where Amy had been watching, and Steve sidled up to Billy without a word. He leaned against the wall next to Billy, who he could tell was well aware of his presence but pretended not to be.

Steve suspected that if he was to wait for Billy to speak first, he’d have to wait until he was old and gray, so he turned toward him and crossed his arms over his chest. He’d planned on demanding answers, but one look at Billy’s face made him change his mind. Billy was pale, and wouldn’t meet his eyes, and only because Steve was really close did he notice the other boy’s shallow breaths. There was a red mark under Billy’s eye that hadn’t been there before, and that Scott wasn’t responsible for. Steve frowned. Indicating the mark, he asked, “What’s that?”

Billy glanced up and must have known what Steve meant, because he shrugged and threw a half-hearted grin his way. “This? Just a reminder to be in time, Harrington. Don’t worry.”

Steve opened his mouth to say something else, but Brenner entered the room at that exact moment, and Billy said, under his breath, “Later, okay? Not now.” Steve reluctantly nodded as everyone started lining up against the walls.

Once the count was over – there were 92 of them, Atwell proclaimed, and Steve noticed several not-so-discreet looks in Billy’s direction at this – they all expected to be released out into the quad again. But instead, Brenner said, “Mr Hill? A word.”

Tommy, who was standing in the line next to Carol, frowned and pointed at himself. “Me?”

“Yes”, said Brenner. “The young lady can manage without you for a while, I’m sure.”

Hesitantly, Tommy let go of Carol’s hand and walked up to Brenner, who was watching them with a patient smile on his face.

“You’ll be pleased to know that we are releasing you.”

 

* * *

 

It was all, apparently, a big failure. The man who Hopper had decided was called Dick had berated his men for failing to find Billy, Crawford had berated Dick for letting Billy run away in the first place, and Hopper was _this_ close to punching someone in the face just to make someone else deal with the same kind of headache that he was currently developing.

Someone had spread out the papers that Billy had brought on the table they were gathered around, and everyone had been talking over each other for the last couple of minutes, and comparing the information they’d been given to what they already knew.

“Okay, so guards here, here, here – we knew about that one – and … where’s the infirmary?”

Hopper pointed on the map. “Here.”

“With that kind of range, it will be basically impossible to get close enough to the school without being seen.”

“Then how the hell did that kid get out?!”

It hit Hopper then. “The storm drain. Goddammit, the storm drain …”

“What storm drain?”

Hopper pointed on the map. “I don’t know how he made it past the guards, but there’s an old storm drain here … There’s a gate on it and we keep it locked, but some of the students are … creative. That must have been how he got out. And back in.”

“Yeah, _if_ he made it.”

Hopper glared at the man who’d spoken. “He made it.”

“Okay, hold on”, said Dick and held up a paper. “This cellar that the kids are describing … it’s not on the plans.”

“It’s there though”, Hopper said and resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I’ve been in it. There used to be a building right behind where the kitchen is. They tore it down in the 60’s. That’s a subbasement in that building.”

“So there’s no building above it, then?”

“No.”

“So _theoretically_ , if the hostages were in that cellar, and the building blew up … they’d probably survive.”

Hopper frowned. “I don’t know. It was built in 1883.”

“They built to last back then”, Crawford commented and turned to a man with a thick moustache. “What about the explosives?”

The man cleared his throat and looked down at the papers on the table. “Well, what they kids say about switching the chips … it’s interesting.”

“Could it work?”

The man shrugged. “Yeah. It’s very possible, yes.”

Dick gestured vaguely at the man while keeping eye-contact with Crawford, as if to say ‘see?’. Crawford shook his head.

“We can’t do anything. Washington has given me the go-ahead to start negotiations, and that’s how we’ll play this.”

“We don’t negotiate with terrorists, Robert! We have a real chance of saving the hostages here!”

“Can you guarantee no casualties, John?”

Okay, so apparently he _wasn’t_ called Dick.

“No, _of course not_ , and you know it.”

“Then I’m sorry, but we can’t do it.”

“Even if we have an assault plan that could actually work?”

“We have an assault plan that a couple of _kids_ came up with, one of whom evidently got kicked out of two schools!”

Hopper felt the need to speak up. “Three schools, actually.”

Crawford gestured toward him but continued to speak to apparently-John. “ _Three_ schools. Of course, I’m sorry. We can’t trust that a kid that’s been kicked out of _three schools_ is going to be able to pull all of this together, John. We can’t.”

“Yes we can.” Hopper was as surprised as the rest of them when he heard himself speak. At their looks, he cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t trust him to show up for class, but this? Billy can do anything he sets his mind to – remind me to tell you about the home-made rockets later. I know Billy, and I know the other kids. They could pull it off.”

Crawford sighed. “Your faith in your students is moving, Mr Hopper. But the answer is still no.”

 

* * *

 

“What do you mean, you’re releasing me?” Tommy asked, frowning. His voice was clear in the cafeteria, and all eyes were on him and Brenner. Steve shook his head and closed his eyes. He’d known Tommy for a long time; he recognized that particular tone of voice, and knew that it was never a precursor to good things.

Brenner didn’t know that, though, because he continued, “Your father is an influential man with a long reach. We are looking forward to working with him in the future, and we are releasing you as a sign of our good will.”

Tommy’s whole face darkened, and Steve could hear Billy groan silently to his immediate left. Apparently Billy had known Tommy for long enough to recognize trouble, too.

“You’re releasing me because of who my father is?”

“Yes.”

Tommy cocked his head to the side. “Can Carol come with me?”

Brenner’s eyes narrowed, and the smile slipped off his face as he replied, coldly, “No.” And honestly, that single word, uttered by that man, would have been enough for anyone else to gulp and back down, but Tommy had always lacked self-preservation. And common sense. Because he squared his shoulders and raised his chin in defiance.

“I’m not going unless Carol goes too.”

_Smack!_

Everybody jumped or flinched when Brenner slapped Tommy in the face, hard. Tommy’s head snapped to the side, and as he straightened up, Brenner stepped right up to him and crowded him against a pillar. He said something that was too low for the people in the room to hear, but whatever it was, it made Tommy’s eyes widen.

Brenner turned and pointed at Carol. “Vic, bring her here.”

One of the terrorists shouldered his weapon and went up to Carol, and grabbed her roughly by the arm. The girl next to her – Lydia? Linda? Steve was ashamed to realize he didn’t remember her name – tried to stop him, but he easily shoved her back and continued dragging Carol out into the middle of the room.

Steve should have seen it coming, he really should. Tommy had always been reckless, and everyone at school knew that Carol and Tommy were an item. Touch one, and the other would come after you. It wasn’t just for show, either. Steve knew them both enough to tell that what was between them was closer to real love than anything he’d seen with other couples. So during all this, Steve was one of the few who had his eyes on Tommy instead of Carol, and he saw like in slow-motion how Tommy ducked under Brenner’s arm. In a second, he was at his girlfriend’s side, and then several things happened at once.

Tommy punched Vic square in the face. Everyone cried out or gasped. Vic pushed Carol away and reached for his gun. Carol stumbled back into the line of students. And loud shots were heard in the cafeteria, making everyone scream and hunker down.

Steve couldn’t tear his eyes off Tommy, as his friend was hit by the bullets. His body jerked, and then he opened his mouth and folded in on himself. Carol was screaming and running before anyone could react, and she reached him just as he hit the floor.

Brenner yelled, the guard by the door slowly lowered his gun – which he’d just shot Tommy with – and Steve and Billy moved forward as one, eyes on Tommy. Neither of them got any further than a couple of steps, though, before they had guns shoved in their faces. Billy raised his arms in surrender and backed up, but Steve couldn’t move. He saw Carol scream, he saw Tommy bleeding on the floor, he saw an absolutely livid Brenner gesturing wildly in front of the guard – but he didn’t hear anything but his own heartbeat. Distantly, he felt a hand on his arm, pulling him back. A part of him recognized that it was Billy’s hand, but he couldn’t look away from Tommy, even as Billy started dragging him out of the room along with everyone else.

Carol was bent over her boyfriend on the floor, and when Steve passed them he could see Tommy’s face – he was grimacing in pain and had his eyes screwed shut. One of the terrorists was trying to pull Carol away from Tommy’s side, but she put up quite the fight.

“–rrington. Harrington. _Steve._ ”

Steve blinked and looked to the side, where a pale Billy was watching him intently and speaking slowly to him. “I need your help.” He then turned to the man who was pulling at Carol, and held his arms out and in front of him to show that he wasn’t a threat. The man must have been sick of Carol-wrangling, because he nodded and let Steve and Billy get closer.

Instead of getting Carol away from there, though, Steve fell to his knees by Tommy’s side. He was bleeding from the side of stomach, and from his hip, and the lower part of his shirt was saturated by blood. He was breathing, but there were tears on his face and he was holding his hands over his side. His hands were bloody, too.

“Tommy …” Steve croaked out.

Tommy didn’t show that he’d heard, but he moaned in pain, and that’s when the guard shoved the barrel of his gun into Steve’s shoulder to get him to move. “Everybody out. Brenner’s orders.”

“What about Tommy?” Steve heard Billy ask.

“We’re calling for medical personnel. Now _move_.”

The man nudged Steve with the gun again, and Steve reluctantly got to his feet. He took one of Carol’s arms, and Billy took the other, and together they half-carried her out of there, while she tried to get free to get back to her boyfriend. Halfway down the corridor, she stopped fighting them and let them lead her away, while she cried openly.

They followed everyone else, and were forced into their respective rooms again. Steve and Billy tried to convince the guard to let Carol come with them, but there were no exceptions. So they had to drop her off in room number three, while Steve and Billy both were pushed back into Dustin’s room. The kids were already there, wide-eyed and pale.

Steve didn’t start shaking until he saw the blood on his hands.

 

* * *

 

Rumors spread fast that there had been shots fired at the school, and there was frantic activity in the camp on the hill. Hopper was standing in the shadows, watching everyone else go through papers and issuing orders and making themselves useful. In the middle of it all was the Chief, who had been calling the number to Hopper’s office for a full four minutes on some kind of speakerphone/radio contraption before Brenner finally picked up, and everyone shut up to hear what was being said.

“We heard gunfire”, the Chief began. “Can you tell me if anyone is hurt?”

Brenner didn’t reply immediately, instead they heard him take a deep breath. When he spoke, his voice was cold. “You will send medical personnel and a stretcher to the front entrance, to pick up an injured student. My men will not shoot, and will let them leave unharmed.”

At this, Hopper couldn’t keep quiet. He took a couple of steps forward. “A student? Who?”

He ignored the warning looks the other men sent his way. Brenner was quiet for a second too long before he spoke. “Who’s this?”

“I’m the headmaster, Jim Hopper”, Hopper said, and couldn’t help adding, “You’re sitting in my chair.”

A laugh from the other end of the line.

“You can come too, Mr Hopper. I’d like to meet you.”

And then he hung up the phone. Hopper turned to Crawford and John-not-Dick, held up his hand to stop their protests before they began, and said in a voice that brooked no argument, “I’m going.”

 

* * *

 

“Guys, guys, guys!” Dustin called excitedly from where he was sitting in the window, face pressed against the glass. “There’s people coming!”

The rest of the room’s inhabitants moved to the window, and although there was a whole bunch of pushing and name-calling, everyone got a good look at the three people who were walking up the gravel road that led to the front entrance. Two people were carrying something between them, and the third was walking in the front, with his hands up.

“Wait. Is that Hopper?!”

 

* * *

 

Hopper walked in front of the paramedics with his hands up. A part of him expected to be shot at, but as they got closer to the entrance, he could make out movement by the door. He raised his hands a little higher in the air, and stopped when the man by the door brandished his weapon and said, “That’s far enough”.

“Are you Ben Brenner?” Hopper asked, even though he knew the answer. He had seen pictures of Brenner, and this wasn’t him. The man shook his head and motioned for the paramedics – who were carrying a stretcher – to go up the stairs.

“This way. I’ll show you.”

The paramedics and the man disappeared from view, and instead another man – definitely Brenner – appeared behind the open door. He was armed, and casually pointed a gun at Hopper while he looked him over.

“You don’t look like a headmaster.”

“You don’t look like a terrorist”, Hopper retorted before he could think. But instead of getting a bullet through his head, he got an amused huff of laughter.

“You’ve got guts.”

Well, since it seemed to be working … “And you’ve got guns. And my kids. Who got shot, and how?”

“Thomas Hill.”

Hopper paled. “Hill?”

“It was an accident. We were going to release him, but he resisted. One of my men accidentally discharged his gun, and Thomas got hit.”

Dragging a hand over his chin – full of stubble, he needed to shave – Hopper exhaled. “Do you realize what you’ve done?”

Brenner’s eyes hardened. “We were releasing him, as a sign of good will. It’s very important that you make that clear to everyone. We were _releasing him_.”

“You shot a teenage boy.”

“It was an accident!” Brenner snarled, and Hopper instinctively took a step back. “You tell them that, when they ask. That we didn’t mean for this to happen. We were going to release him.”

“Okay”, Hopper said with his hands still raised. “Okay, I’ll tell them.”

Brenner gave a short nod. Soon after, the paramedics returned with Tommy lying on the stretcher between them. He had his eyes screwed shut and was very, very pale. There was blood on his torso, and the paramedics were walking fast. Hopper reached out to brush the hair away from the boy’s face as they passed him, but Tommy didn’t seem to notice.

Hopper shook his head as he turned back to face Brenner. “He’s just a kid.”

Brenner’s face was unreadable when he replied, “They’re all just kids, Mr Hopper. I suggest you get things moving out there, so we won’t have to do something like this again.”

He was shutting the door as Hopper spoke up again.

“Wait!”

Brenner paused, and raised an eyebrow.

“You could let one more kid leave – unharmed”, Hopper suggested. “As your sign of ‘good will’.”

Brenner didn’t move, but after a couple of tense seconds, he gave a little smile and a nod. “Nice try, Mr Hopper. But no. Now, leave.”

 

* * *

 

“Mr Hill”, a man said and bowed his head in respect. “I heard what happened. I’m so sorry.”

Georgie Hill gave a nod, but didn’t stop. The other man fell into step with him, as they walked down the hospital corridor. “How is he doing?”

“We don’t know, yet. He’s in surgery.”

“What do you need?”

Hill stopped walking, took a deep breath and turned to the man. “We reached out to the Brenners with a friendly request. This is how they replied.” He clenched his jaw and lowered his voice. “I want to send a similar message back to them. Reach out to everyone we’ve got anything on who’s in with Brenner. Tell them we’ll pay fifty thousand dollars for his head, as soon as possible. And make sure he knows _why_.”

The other man bowed his head again.

“It’ll be done.”

 

* * *

 

Steve had had his little freak-out earlier, when he locked himself in the tiny bathroom to wash the blood off his hands. He didn’t think the kids had noticed him shaking like a leaf, but he was sure that Billy had. He hadn’t said anything, though, just gently steered him toward the bathroom. None of the kids had bothered him during the few minutes he was in there, so either they were all too shaken up by what they’d seen, or – more likely, knowing them – Billy had been standing outside the door, glaring them into submission.

When he had calmed down and washed his hands clean, he walked back out into the room, and that’s when Dustin called at them from the window, and they saw Hopper and two other men approach the building – luckily, without getting shot at. A couple of minutes later, they left, and were carrying who must have been Tommy on a stretcher between them. Steve watched them until he couldn’t see them anymore, and almost jumped when he heard Billy’s low voice right next to his ear.

“He’ll be okay.”

“I know.”

“Seriously. Have you ever known anyone more stubborn than Tommy?”

Steve huffed out a watery laugh and gave Billy a significant look, which said ‘yes actually, and he’s standing next to me right now’. “Well …”

“ _Known_ , Harrington”, Billy said. “Don’t act like you know me.” But he was smiling a little, which was an improvement from earlier.

Steve glanced at him, and his eyes were once again drawn to the little burn mark on Billy’s cheek. It was red and looked like it hurt.

“I think I know you a little bit by now, _Hargrove_.” He raised his eyebrows and nodded toward the burn. “So what’s up with that?”

Dustin suddenly appeared between them. “What’s up with what?” He followed Steve’s gaze and looked Billy straight in the face from maybe four inches away – which was very brave of him – and said, “Oh. I have something for that. Wait here.”

Billy opened his mouth to say something – no doubt some variation of ‘Where else am I supposed to go?’ – but Dustin had already darted off to the bathroom. He came back ten seconds later with a colorful band-aid, grinning from ear to ear. Billy backed up a step.

“Hell no.”

Steve saw the rest of the kids watching them from the other end of the room, and that’s when he noticed that they were all over there, while he and Billy – and now Dustin – were over here. Like they were all avoiding each other. That just wouldn’t do. Teamwork, and all that.

“Hey, Billy? What happened, before? Why were you late?”

“Yeah”, Mike piped up from the other end of the room. “You almost got Will’s brother shot, and Mr Clarke, too!”

Billy’s face turned hard. “I didn’t _mean_ to be late, shithead. They wouldn’t let me leave.”

“Who wouldn’t let you leave?” Steve asked, and reached out and planted the band-aid he’d snatched from Dustin on Billy’s cheek. Billy swatted at him, but sighed and accepted it when he seemed to realize that they all wanted to know what happened.

“The first distraction worked, and I got through the storm drain okay. I ran into some guys out there, hiding in the bushes, but they wouldn’t let me leave. I had to go to their camp–“

“Camp?”

“Yes, Wheeler, they have a camp. Tents and helicopters and cars and shit, up on the hill north of here. Anyway, there was this guy there, and I gave him the folder and told him that we have a plan if they need help or whatever, but he wouldn’t let me go back. Then Hopper showed up, and I–“

Billy turned silent, suddenly, and his eyes widened slightly. Steve frowned.

“What?”

“I punched him in the face and ran.”

The kids looked shocked, and Steve shook his head a little. “You _what_?”

Max shook her head. “That’s it. He’s gonna expel you for that, for sure.”

Billy glared at her, but continued, “I stole a car­ –“

“You stole a car!?”

“– and hurried back, but I didn’t make it in time.”

Will turned his earnest eyes on Billy, asking the question that had been on Steve’s tongue. “How did you get past them?”

And Billy didn’t sneer or roll his eyes – which proved what Steve had started to suspect, which was that Billy had a soft spot for the youngest Byers – but answered, “I ran for it when they were busy shooting at a helicopter.”

That provided a clear enough mental image for all of them to contemplate Billy’s statement in silence for a couple of seconds.

“That sounds like something from a movie”, Dustin murmured, which broke the rest of them out of their thoughts.

“How come you were only wearing a towel, though?” Steve asked, because nothing that Billy had told them so far had explained that.

Billy grimaced. “I fell … in the water. It would have been suspicious if I’d shown up with wet clothes.”

The kids nodded, as if that made perfect sense – and it did, although Steve wasn’t sure he’d have thought of it – and then Dustin pointed at Billy’s face. “And that? Did Brenner do that?”

Billy’s eyes flickered to the side for a second, and he licked his lips before he lifted one shoulder in a shrug and made a grimace that perhaps was supposed to have been a smile. “Nah. I had a smoke, and there was an accident with a cigarette.”

“And your hand?” Steve asked, because he’d noticed that Billy had wrapped a piece of fabric around his hand.

Billy turned his eyes on him with a dark look that said not to ask any more questions, but he bit out, “I hurt it when I fell in the woods.”

Which was a lie. Steve had seen his hands in the cafeteria, and they’d been fine then. But the kids seemed pleased enough with the answer, and Billy glared at him in warning, so he let it go. He could always ask more questions later, when the kids weren’t listening in.

“But you met with them”, Max said and brought their discussion back on track. “What did they say? When are they coming for us?”

Billy turned back toward the kids. “They didn’t say.”

“What did they say about our plan, then?” Lucas asked. “Are they gonna go with it?”

“I don’t think so. That guy barely glanced at our info while I was there. Guess we’ll know if they decide to signal us. But don’t hold your breath - they must have something else planned.”

“Just as well”, Dustin sighed. “That guy took my plane.”

“Your plane’s in Hopper’s office”, Billy said, and immediately made a face as if he regretted speaking.

Dustin lit up. “Really? That’s perfect, then! Both the plane and the detonator are in the same place!” He pinned Billy with an intense stare. “Wait, you were in Hopper’s office? You saw it? The detonator was there, right?”

Billy sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “Yeah, kid. But that won’t matter, because they’re not gonna let us do it.”

“We could do it anyway?”

“No fucking way”, Steve said, at the same time as Billy shook his head. Their eyes met and they stared at each other for a second in total agreement, before Steve continued, “We’re not doing _anything_ unless they explicitly ask us to. We got them the information, and now we leave _using_ that information to the professionals. Do you understand?”

Various disappointed and reluctant sounds of agreement came from the kids, and Steve breathed out a sigh of relief. The plan they’d come up with sounded like a solid plan to him, but it would take for the people on the outside to do a huge part of it, and if they had something else in the works … Steve and Billy and the kids interfering might mess with that plan. He wouldn’t risk it. Not if it meant that one of them could get hurt.

Especially not after what happened to Tommy. Seeing him get shot had been bad enough; to imagine any of the kids in his place? Steve didn’t even want to imagine it. He was more than happy to leave the rest to the actual adults.

 

* * *

 

They weren’t called from their rooms for dinner. Which was hardly a surprise, after what happened – and Steve didn’t think he would have been able to eat anything, anyway. The kids grumbled about it, though. Dustin dug through his stash and found some snacks and chocolate bars that he handed out to his friends. He even begrudgingly offered Billy one – but Billy, like Steve, shook his head.

“I didn’t think you liked me much, kid?” Billy said.

Dustin huffed. “I don’t. But I _guess_ you don’t deserve to _starve_.”

Billy gave a short bark of laughter and met Steve’s eyes. “Did you hear that, Harrington? A ringing endorsement.”

Mike was extra grumpy during the evening, until Lucas made him confess to being worried about Jane.

“If we won’t get dinner, then she won’t get dinner either! And she won’t know what’s going on, why she hasn’t had an update or … or _anything_. She must be so scared!”

“She _has_ food”, Billy commented. “Don’t worry. And Jane doesn’t scare easily, like the rest of you pussies.”

His comment was met with various exclamations and protests, which – judging by the grin on his face – had been his goal. He licked his lips and said, with fake-concern, “I’m more worried about the vodka, actually.”

Steve straightened up. He’d heard a few of his classmates talk about some kind of vodka/mouthwash-concoction, and he shouldn’t have been surprised that Billy was somehow involved in that whole mess.

“Vodka?” Mike said. “What do you mean, ‘vodka’?”

Billy cackled. Steve groaned and hid his face in his hands.

 

* * *

 

Hopper was just getting in a jeep to take him into town to get some sleep, when a man came running and shouted for the car to stop. Puzzled, Hopper looked at the driver; he looked as confused as Hopper felt.

“Mr Hopper! Mr Crawford told me to come get you. It’s urgent.”

Hopper felt his exhaustion evaporate, and be replaced by cold dread. Crawford had personally told him to go and get some sleep, not ten minutes ago. Something bad must have happened for that to change in such a short time, and Hopper was afraid of finding out what it was.

He was out of the car before he had time to think about it, and jogged back toward the biggest tent. When he entered, the rest of the men in charge were already standing around the table, and Crawford didn’t waste time with pleasantries. As soon as Hopper had taken his place next to John-not-Dick, Crawford cleared his throat.

“Gentlemen, less than an hour ago, Martin Brenner was murdered in prison during a riot.”

No one spoke, and Hopper wasn’t the only one feeling the weight of that statement.

“It hasn’t reached the media yet”, Crawford continued, “and we’re trying to keep it quiet, but as you can imagine it complicates matters. Ben Brenner has killed four people, injured two – one of them a student, and incidentally the son of Georgie Hill – and taken 92 people hostage just to get his father out of jail. You can imagine, I’m sure, the kind of damage he would be capable of if he found out his father is dead. So, John?”

He turned to John, who drew himself up.

“Right. We have orders to proceed with the assault as planned and as soon as possible, which puts us at breakfast tomorrow morning.”

He turned to two of his men who were standing off to the side.

“Cut the power to the campus and jam everything – radio, TV, microwaves … I want an absolute and total blackout. I don’t want Brenner to be able to contact or be contacted by anyone but us.”

The men nodded, and one of them slipped out of the tent.

“Wait”, Hopper said. “What does this mean for Billy and the kids?”

John clenched his jaw. “We’ll need their help. Their plan has some merits.”

“But you said–“

“Mr Hopper”, Crawford interrupted. “As much as I hate admitting it, the kids’ plan is our best chance of minimizing casualties.”

“You’re asking them to put themselves in harm’s way!”

Crawford threw a stack of paper down on the table with force. “They are already in harm’s way!”

He took a steadying breath, and Hopper did the same.

“I’m sorry”, Crawford said. “I would have preferred to negotiate peacefully, but that is no longer an option. Besides, Mr Hopper, you were the one who told us that your kids could do this.” He turned to John. “John, you’ll lead an attack team tomorrow at breakfast. I want teams coming in from all directions. We also have to get our guys in close enough to make it to the headmaster’s office – and I want your best bomb guy on that team.”

John nodded. “Yeah. We’ll need to get them as close as possible to the school without being seen, though, before the actual attack. Mr Hopper?”

Hopper looked up. “Yeah?”

“Would you mind showing our men to that storm drain you were telling us about?”

“No, yeah. No problem.”

Crawford nodded and spoke to someone by the entrance. “Make sure the kids know to go ahead with that plan of theirs. We can honestly consider ourselves lucky if they manage to even get their fellow students down to that cellar, but we’ll work on the assumption that they don’t.”

Hopper drew a hand over his face. There would be no sleep for him tonight.

 

* * *

 

Steve couldn’t sleep. As soon as he closed his eyes he saw Tommy get hit by bullets, over and over on repeat in his head, and he was afraid that if he fell asleep it would haunt him in his nightmares and he wouldn’t be able to get them to stop. And as he didn’t want to wake anyone up with his screams, the easiest solution seemed to be to stay awake. So he was laying on the floor by the window, staring straight ahead.

He wasn’t the only one who didn’t sleep. While he could hear Mike’s light snores from the other bed, there were no heavy breaths from the closest bed, which Lucas and Dustin was sharing. Billy had, surprisingly, given up the bed in favor for a spot on the floor where he could lean his side against the bookcase, and Max was wrapped up in a comforter and sleeping between the other two beds. Steve would be able to see her if he turned around and looked between the crap Dustin had piled under his bed.

He was parched, but he didn’t want to get up and get something to drink, in case he’d wake anyone up. So he stayed there, on his side, and tried to will his body to relax.

He didn’t react to the sudden brightness of the room at first. After all, they’d almost gotten used to the searchlights that were moving across the school’s exterior at night. But this time the light didn’t move. It was as if whoever manned the light was shining it straight into their room on purpose, like–

“The signal!”

Steve didn’t have time react before someone stumbled over him, accidentally kicking him in the stomach.

“Hey!”

When he looked up, he saw Lucas and Dustin who had shot out of bed and were both pressing up against the window, through which the bright light of the searchlight shone in, bathing the room in white.

“It’s the signal!” Dustin called excitedly. “They need our help!”

“The mirror, the mirror!” Lucas said, and Max – when had she woken up? – came running with the mirror that had been hanging from a hook by the door.

Throwing a quick glance around the room, Steve saw Will and Mike sitting up in bed, their eyes wide, and also Billy getting up from his spot on the floor. Steve’s mind was muddled, but as his pulse picked up speed, his brain came back online and he realized what this meant.

“Wait–“, he said, but the kids were already signaling back with the mirror.

“No!”

Billy was suddenly pushing Steve aside to get to the window, and he ripped the mirror out of Max’s hands and threw it to the side, making it shatter against the wall. Everyone froze, but the searchlight blinked twice in affirmation before it was shut off – proving that whoever was on the outside had received their go-ahead already.

“ _Fuck_!”

Billy had his back to Steve, so Steve couldn’t see his face, but he saw the looks on the kids’ faces – they were watching Billy warily, and with confusion.

“What are you doing?” Dustin said. “This was your idea in the first place!”

“It was a stupid idea!”

“What are you talking about?” Max said. “It’s gonna work! You said so yourself this morning!”

“Well I was wrong!”

Okay. This was just weird, because Billy never admitted he was wrong, _ever_.

“What’s going on, Billy?” Steve asked and put a hand on his shoulder.

Billy whirled around and raised a hand in warning. He looked freaked out. Pale, and with wide eyes. While Steve watched, though, he seemed to collect himself. Took a couple of deep breaths and closed his eyes momentarily. When he opened them again, he seemed more put together.

“Nothing”, he said. “It’s just, we– There’s just too many things that can go wrong. We can get people killed. It’s not worth it.”

“Well, _they_ seem to think it’s worth it”, Lucas pointed out and motioned with his hands to the window. “Or they wouldn’t have given us the go-ahead signal.”

“Then _they_ ’re fucking stupid”, Billy muttered, but Steve was the only one to hear it.

“Look”, Steve said, “I don’t like it either” – especially not with Tommy being shot in front of them earlier today – “but for them to give us the signal, they’re planning an attack, and they need our help. We have to do our part. We can … hash out the details, we have time.”

Billy looked like he wanted to protest, but bit his lip.

“Fine”, he said. “Details. Whatever.”

By now, they were all standing around the bed closest to the window. They were all awake, and Steve doubted that they’d be able to get back to sleep – if they’d even been sleeping before. They might as well do this now.

“So …” he said. “It’s tomorrow, at breakfast?”

“Yeah”, Max said. “We’ll get people to go to the bathroom in pairs to confuse the guards. I’ll pretend to have an asthma attack to make Brenner leave his office –“

“No you won’t”, Billy commented.

Max glared at him and continued, as if she hadn’t been interrupted, “– and meanwhile, Billy will go through the vents to Hopper’s office to switch the chip –“

“Are you listening to me, Maxine?” Billy growled. “I _said_ you’re not doing it.”

She waved her arms around in exasperation. “What is your _problem_ , asshole? This is the plan! We agreed on it already!”

 “You’re not doing it! You don’t even have asthma!”

She rolled her eyes. “My best friend back in third grade had asthma. I know how to fake it, okay?”

“Yeah”, Lucas butted in, “she’s a great actor, she can do it!”

“Shut up, Sinclair.”

“Don’t tell him to shut up!”

Billy moved before any of them had the chance to react, crowding Lucas against the wall with a hand on his chest.

“They have our medical records on file, genius”, he growled.

“Hey!”

Feelings were running high, but Steve wasn’t going to allow Billy to bully the kids, so he reached out and grabbed at Billy’s shoulder. Billy wouldn’t move, though, instead he pushed Lucas into the wall again, hard.

“They’ll _know_ she doesn’t have asthma.”

“Billy!” Steve grabbed him by his upper arms and forcibly pulled him away from Lucas; using more force than necessary, because he hadn’t expected Billy to give in so easily. They both tumbled backward over the bed and down on the floor on the other side. Steve was up immediately, and was treated to the sight of Billy grimacing and struggling to get up from where he’d fallen into a bedside table.

When he got up, holding one hand on a spot on his back, he shook his head and took a threatening step toward Steve.

“You don’t go after the kids”, Steve stated and planted his feet in preparation for the tussle that was sure to follow. Billy just about growled.

“What’s _wrong_ with you?” Max shrieked and pulled Billy’s attention away from Steve. “It was your plan, and now you don’t want to do it?!”

Billy was standing there, with his back turned on Steve once again, breathing heavily. When he took a step forward, Steve reacted without thinking and put one hand on Billy’s back and the other on his shoulder, to yank him back. But Billy flinched away from his touch as if he’d been burned – backed up a few steps and stumbled against the other bed. Steve frowned at his reaction.

Max continued angrily, “Newsflash, Billy! You got us into this, now you’ve gotta man the fuck up and get us out of it!”

Billy’s eyes flickered from her to Steve, and Steve absent-mindedly said, “Language” – but he was staring down at his hand and frowning. When he looked up again, Billy was staring at him with wide eyes, and Steve made a split-second decision.

He grabbed Billy by his upper arm and steered him toward the bathroom door. Just before they got there, he turned back to the kids and said, “Go back to bed, me and Billy need to have a talk.”

He pushed Billy into the bathroom and slammed the door shut after them, locking it to keep the kids out. When he turned back around, Billy was leaning on the sink and shaking his head.

“You don’t understand.”

“Billy.”

“She's _not_ doing it, Steve. There's no fucking way I'm letting her do that now.”

“Billy.”

“No. Just, _no_ , it's not happening.”

Steve held up his hand, which had been against Billy's back when he yanked him backward just now. There was a small red smear across his palm. Billy paled and straightened up, turning so that he was facing Steve.

“Billy.” Billy shook his head again, but Steve only raised his eyebrows and splayed the fingers of his hand. “Let me see, Billy.”

Billy's eyes hardened as he backed up a step. “It doesn't matter.”

“The hell it does! If you haven't noticed, we're about to try to take down a bunch of assholes with guns together, and I need to know if you're hurt!”

Steve took a step closer, but Billy twisted his body away from him.

“It's nothing I can't handle.”

“Why are you being so damn stubborn?!”

Billy drew himself up – and for a second Steve thought that he'd get punched in the face – and then he abruptly turned around and pulled his T-shirt over his head. What hadn't been visible through the dark blue fabric was _very_ visible against his light skin, and Steve drew in a sharp breath at what he was seeing.

There were long red marks scattered across Billy’s back, on a backdrop of dark and painful looking bruising that covered most of his back. A couple of the ... _lashes_ , they looked like fucking lashes ... had broken skin but the blood had dried and turned dark and flaky – two of them seemed to be bleeding anew, no doubt from Steve dragging Billy over the bed and into that table.

Steve didn't have time to say anything before Billy whirled back around and pointed at Steve.

“You seen enough?” he hissed. “ _This_ is why Max is going to stay as far away as fucking possible from Brenner. Because he held me down and did _this_ –“ He motioned to his back, “– while he waved her fucking photo in front of me and said that the next time, it'd be _her_!”

Steve opened his mouth to say something, but Billy ripped off the bandana he had wrapped around his hand and held it up in front of him, and Steve's mind stuttered to a halt as Billy continued, “Do you want _this_ to happen to her, Harrington? Because I sure as hell don't!”

None of them spoke for a while that felt like forever. Steve stared at Billy's hand, which sported an angry-looking red burn mark which was white in the middle, and no doubt from a cigarette. Steve's eyes flickered to the band-aid that covered the smaller burn on Billy's cheek and understanding dawned on him. Billy backed up and turned his head to the side, breathing heavily, and looking like he regretted his outburst.

“Billy”, was all that Steve said.

“Yeah, well. Like I said, it's nothing I can't handle, but. Max can't–” He didn't finish, but Steve heard it anyway. _This can't happen to Max._

Without meeting Steve's eyes, Billy picked up his T-shirt and made to put it back on, but Steve's hand shot out and stopped him.

“Hang on, wait. That looks ...” He hesitated. “That looks painful. Have you cleaned it?”

Billy glanced toward the door, which reminded Steve that the kids were just outside. And that Billy had obviously kept this all to himself since he got back.

Billy shook his head, “Didn't get a chance to, yet”, and Steve pursed his lips. His next words surprised them both.

“Let me help?”

Billy let out a surprised laugh. “Yeah sure, if you can make sure the brats leave me alone for five minutes, that’d be great.”

“No, I mean. I can help you ... reach.” He indicated Billy's back, which Billy would have troubles reaching if he tried to do it himself.

Billy frowned at him. “Why would you wanna help? You don’t like me.”

Steve shrugged. “You're an asshole, sure, but you’re not _all_ bad.” Proven by recent actions.

“I beat you into the ground.”

“That was months ago. And I threw the first punch, anyway.”

“Yeah, because I _wanted_ you to.”

It was Steve's turn to frown. “Why would you want to–?” He threw his hands up in exasperation. “You know what? I don't even care.”

Billy answered him anyway, a small smile playing on his lips. “I can't be caught _starting_ fights. That’s what gets you expelled. With my reputation, Hopper would throw me out if I so much as tapped someone on the nose – and I can't afford to be kicked out from another school.” His smile lessened. “My dad would kill me.”

“So you goad other people into starting fights for you”, Steve stated. He should have expected it, really. “Ever thought about ... oh I don't know. _Not_ getting into fights?”

Billy grinned. “Now where's the fun in that?”

Steve rolled his eyes and reached out for Billy's shoulder, and gently turned him around so he could see his back. “Well, for whatever it’s worth, you're good at it. Getting on people's nerves so that they wanna punch you in the face, I mean.”

He couldn't see the other boy’s expression, but Billy gave a dry huff of laughter before he replied, self-deprecatingly, “Yeah, thanks. I know.”

Too late, Steve realized that what he’d said sounded like he thought Billy had brought the state he was currently in on himself, and tried to amend.

“I didn't mea– I didn't mean that _this_ was something that –”

“It's okay, Harrington”, Billy sighed. “I know.”

Somehow, Steve doubted it. “You didn't deserve this”, he said simply, and reached for a clean towel from a shelf. Billy didn't say anything in reply.

Steve continued to carefully clean the dried and new blood off Billy's back. One of the marks that had broken skin started bleeding again, if only a little, so he held the towel against it until it stopped. He briefly considered putting on some of Dustin’s colorful band-aids, but there wasn’t enough unblemished skin for him to do so. Meanwhile, Billy tended to the burn on his hand – cleaning it as well as he could and then slapping on a hideously green and yellow band-aid, to match the one on his face.

“Some of these probably need more than band-aids”, Steve muttered as he gently prodded at one of the marks on Billy’s back.

“Do what you can”, Billy said, without turning his head. “It doesn’t matter. Chicks dig scars, you know.”

He sounded flippant, but Steve could feel how tense he was. He flinched every time Steve touched a particularly tender spot. When Steve didn’t reply, Billy said, “Lighten up, Harrington. It’s not gonna scar.”

Steve wasn’t so sure, but he wasn’t a doctor.

When he had finally finished with his ministrations, he handed Billy his T-shirt and watched as he stiffly pulled it over his head and tried not to wince.

“You're not crawling through the vents tomorrow”, he decided.

Billy opened his mouth, no doubt to protest, but Steve wouldn't let him get a word in. “No, Billy. Look at you, you can barely lift your arms. How are you gonna get up and down the vents as fast as you need to? Besides”, he added when it looked like Billy would put up a fight, “Brenner obviously knows you're trouble. If you're not around during the diversion, he might get suspicious. And apparently, that could ... put others in danger, too.”

Billy clenched his teeth and glanced at the closed door, as if he could see Max through it. Then he gave a jerky nod. “Fine”, he said, reluctantly. “You change the chip.”

“I haven’t ever crawled through the vents though. Is it complicated?”

Billy made an amused noise. “I’ll draw you a map. But we still need a distraction – and Max isn't doing it.”

Steve nodded. “No, you're right. We shouldn't risk it. But _you_ can't risk it, either.” _Or you’ll put Max in danger_ , he didn’t say.

“Then what do we do?”

Steve dragged a hand over his face and sighed. He didn't have an answer. Suddenly there was a knock on the door, and they both jumped. A voice came from the other side.

“I, um ... I can do it?”

Scattered protests came from the other side, and Steve suddenly realized how uncharacteristically quiet the kids had been while he and Billy had been in the bathroom – because _of course_ they hadn’t gone back to bed – and now he was wondering how much of their conversation they'd heard.

Steve reached for the lock on the door, and when he and Billy went back out into the room, they found the kids standing right outside, in a half-circle around Will. Who was the one who had spoken.

Will looked up and his eyes flickered between Steve and Billy, and he repeated, “I can do it”, which brought on another round of protests from the others. But he shook his head, and persisted.

“I can fake a panic attack. You said it had to be something that's in our files, and that's ... that's in mine ...”

All of them shut up at that, because they all knew the reason why that would be in his file. They all knew why he was having panic attacks in the first place, and there was not a single person in the room who wanted him to have to re-live something like that.

“No”, Steve said. “We'll think of something else.”

“What?” Will said, and in that moment he looked so much like his older brother; calm and unmovable. “You and Dustin will switch the chip. Billy and Max are out.” He didn't mention why, but Steve suspected that they had all heard most of his and Billy's hushed bathroom conversation. He glanced over and caught Billy grimacing as he realized the same thing, while Will continued, “Lucas and Mike don't have anything in their files they could use. But I do.”

When they looked like they would protest again, Will insisted; “I can do this. I want to help.”

And the mood of the room changed. Because no one wanted to be the one to tell Will Byers – who had been withdrawn and quiet since he got back, and who had gone through unspeakable things – that he couldn’t do it. No one wanted to take that from him, when he dared to show initiative. When he wanted to be _useful_.

Steve hated it, but. Raising his eyebrows, he turned to Billy.

“I mean. It could work.”

Billy threw his head back and groaned out loud, and then he crouched down on the floor in front of Will, wincing as the position pulled on his back. “You sure, kid?”

Will looked anything but sure when Billy Hargrove was looking up at him, but he nodded.

“Yes.”

Billy watched him for a couple of seconds, as if he could determine the truth behind Will’s answer, and then he gave a sharp nod.

“Okay”, Steve said. “We’ll … we’ll work with that. Shit, Jonathan’s gonna kill me for this.”

“No, he’ll kill _me_ ”, Billy said, with the air of a man who’d accepted his fate. “If we get out of this, I’m gonna have to get a new roommate, or he’s gonna kill me in my sleep.”

Steve snorted. “Tell you what – if we survive this, I’ll trade rooms with Jonathan. I promise that if I’m gonna kill you, I will at least make sure you’re awake for it.”

When Billy raised his eyebrows in surprise, Steve shrugged one shoulder. “I mean, you can’t be a worse roommate than Timmy. He snores.”

That prompted Billy to smile, before he turned back to Will and put his hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, kid. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

There was a weight behind those words that made Steve pause. Maybe it wasn’t just a soft spot. Maybe Billy actually cared about the kids, after all.

 

* * *

 

Ben Brenner woke up early, before six o’clock. He was in the headmaster’s office, lying down on the sofa which was placed in a corner of the room. As had become habit, the first thing he did was to turn on the little TV on the table by the desk – to keep track of whether the situation was being mentioned in the news – but this morning, the TV didn’t turn on. He frowned. Tried again. The TV stayed black.

He tried the lamp on the desk. It didn’t work. The radio. It stayed silent.

Furious, he grabbed the telephone from the desk – which had been reduced to a two-way communication between the school and whoever was in charge on the outside – and as soon as he heard a voice from the other end, he snarled, “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but the kids will pay for it!”

“Hang on, hang on”, a familiar voice said. Chief Harris. “We haven’t done anything. There’s a power outage that affects half the county, it started at three in the morning and they’re working on it as we speak.”

Brenner’s eyebrows drew together. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not, I promise you! Look outside! I know you have men on the roof – they’ll be able to confirm it. It’s affecting everyone, the hospital’s running on generators and the power company’s called in every available employee, trying to find out what happened.”

Brenner growled in frustration and pulled at the hair at the back of his neck.

“Fine! You have until ten o’clock to get the power back. If it’s not back by then, I’ll kill one hostage every 15 minutes until it’s back on.”

“Mr Brenner, I–“

“Don’t think I won’t.”

With that, he hung up the phone and stormed out of the room.

 

* * *

 

They were ripped from their beds – or in Billy’s case, the floor – by one of the armed men, who yanked the door open and yelled for them to ‘get up, get a move on, come on!’ As they scrambled to get up, they heard more shouting from the hallway. It seemed that they were all being awoken early, for some reason that couldn’t be good. Billy gave Steve a significant look as they hurried out of the room – Steve in the front, and Billy taking up the rear – and he figured they were thinking along the same lines; whatever was going on was not something they had planned for, and he could only hope that it would give them an opportunity to put their plan into motion. Good thing they went through all the details last night.

Still, a lot of things could go wrong. A hell of a lot of things could go wrong – _had_ gone wrong, already. It wasn’t a game anymore; it wasn’t a challenge to get by unnoticed or to see how far they could bend the rules. If they fucked up, people could get hurt, or killed. Just like Tommy.

He caught Carol’s eye in the corridor, over the heads of the shorter kids, and while it was only for a second, he raised his eyebrows at her in a silent question – ‘are you okay?’. He got a shrug in response, before some girl from the room she was in put her arm around her shoulders and led her off.

They were taken into the cafeteria – which was good, at least – where they lined up along the walls without thinking. It was just something they did, now.

Atwell counted them while Brenner watched from the middle of the room, and when he proclaimed “91”, half the student body turned to where Tommy had been lying, bleeding out, only yesterday. Someone had cleaned the floor, because there was no trace of blood there today. Billy suspected Flo, and was grateful for it.

No one had turned on the overhead lights, so the cafeteria was dim, with only the early morning light coming in from the windows.

Brenner looked around the room, and there was something wild about the look on his face; something that made Billy avert his eyes when Brenner’s eyes met his for a fraction of a second. Something dangerous was in the air, and he didn’t like it.

“You will stay here, for now.” Brenner’s voice was clear in the silence of the room. “You will not move outside these doors, or you will be shot.”

With that, he left, with Atwell in tow. He left four of the terrorists; the one called George, two that Billy didn’t know the names of (but one of them had been in the attic when he’d brought up food to them earlier), and Michael. When people carefully started moving around the room, and sitting down by the tables, Billy moved as far away from Michael as he could without raising any suspicions. He sat down at a table and waited until Steve, predictably, came to sit down next to him. And with him came most of the kids.

As hushed voices started turning into low small talk in the room without the terrorists caring, Billy nodded to himself.

“I think this might actually be a good thing.”

Steve glanced at the closest guard and asked, “How so?”

“Well, breakfast’s not usually until eight o’clock. That’s when we would have started, normally. But we’re here early today, which gives us time for networking. Telling a few people what’s going on, you know. So that they’re prepared. And so that they can help, with the bathroom thing.”

Lucas leaned over the table and poked Max in the shoulder. He nodded toward one of his friends who was sitting a couple of tables away, while giving Steve a significant look.

“Hey Max. Wanna go visit Henry for a while?”

Billy gave a nod of approval. “We’ll gather again later”, he said and looked to the other end of the room, where Will was sitting close to Jonathan at an empty end of a table.

“I should … I should probably see how Carol’s doing”, Steve said, nodding.

They dispersed. The guards, thankfully, didn’t seem to care if they moved around the room as long as they didn’t try to get close to the door that led outside, so they barely looked at the people walking around as long as they moved slowly and kept their voices down. Billy soon found himself standing in front of Jonathan and Will, who looked up at him with matching unreadable expressions. He winced, and awkwardly reached up to scratch at the back of his neck.

“Hey.”

“Hey”, Jonathan answered, still watching him warily.

Billy bit the bullet.

“I’m sorry about yesterday.”

He remembered looking into Jonathan’s eyes from across the doorway; Jonathan, who had been pushed up against a wall and expected to be shot. And Will, who had to watch it happen.

Billy swallowed, and bit his lip. “ _Really_ sorry.”

Jonathan looked from him, to Will, and back again. Eventually he motioned at the empty seat across from them, and Billy sank into the chair with an exhale he didn’t want to admit sounded a little too much like relief.

“I take it you weren’t in the showers, then, yesterday?” Jonathan said, eyebrow raised.

Billy gave Will a questioning look – had he told Jonathan already? – but Will just shrugged and leaned against Jonathan, who gave him a crooked smile.

“I’ve been your roommate for months, Billy. Your watch isn’t waterproof – you always take it off when you shower.”

Sometimes Billy forgot how perceptive Jonathan could be. Probably why Hopper had made them share a room. He absent-mindedly wondered if Jonathan had been reporting to Hopper during these last couple of months. But he quickly dismissed the thought. Jonathan didn’t seem like the type, and Hopper would have jumped at any chance to get to him – if Hopper had been given proof of what Billy had been up to, he would have used it already.

“But you still wore it at the count yesterday”, Jonathan continued. “So you weren’t in the showers.”

“Right”, Billy said and shook his head a little. “Um, you’re right. But that’s a story for another day.”

Jonathan took it for what it was. “Looking forward to hearing it, then.”

“Actually, there’s something else I should probably apologize for, too.”

Jonathan’s lips quirked upwards. “Two apologies from Billy Hargrove in one day? Are you okay?”

Billy exhaled and rolled his eyes. Steeled himself for what he was about to say. “I’m okay, _for now_. But you’ll probably gonna want to murder me in a minute or so, so we’ll see ... Just keep in mind that it wasn’t my idea!”

Just when Jonathan’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, Will surprised them both by saying, “It was mine, actually.”

That made Jonathan frown, as he looked between the two of them. “What’s going on?”

Billy took a deep breath, and glanced at Will before leaning forward and focusing on Jonathan.

“We’re going to do something stupid, and we’re gonna need your help …”


	8. Chapter 8

The early morning had honestly been a blessing in disguise. Without them gathering in the cafeteria early, they never would have had enough time to enroll as many people as they needed for what they were about to do. And now, when it was almost time, Steve was getting nervous.

He saw two kids get up and walk to the bathroom door in the corner. In a couple of minutes, one of them walked out. Another kid went in. Then another. Two kids went out. It was random enough that he didn’t think that any guard watching would notice if a couple of them didn’t come out immediately.

Steve took a deep breath. On the other side of the room, he saw Billy talking to Flo, and a couple of minutes later she and Cal carefully approached one of the guards, motioning for the kitchen doors and then at the collected students, probably asking if they could start preparing breakfast. The guard nodded, and let the two of them in the kitchen.

It was time. Steve casually stood up and walked to the bathroom. He met Billy’s eyes from across the room, and gave a little nod. Discreetly, he checked his watch to make sure it was on time. As soon as he’d closed the bathroom door behind him, he turned to Dustin and Lucas, who were the last ones to have entered the room.

“Ready?”

Neither of them looked ready, but they didn’t have a choice. They nodded. Steve turned to Lucas.

“Okay, keep the water running if the coast is clear, and turn it off if there’s trouble. That way we’ll know when we get back.”

“Got it”, Lucas replied and did a little salute, making Steve smile.

“All right. Dustin, are you ready to do this?”

Dustin vehemently shook his head, but said, “As ready as I’ll ever be!”

There were three stalls in the bathroom. In the ceiling above the middle one was a metal hatch, for the ventilation shaft, which Billy had assured them led to a similar hatch in Hopper’s office. To enter it, they had to climb on top of the toilet, and then on top of the stall, and then jump the last bit. Luckily, Steve had some upper body strength and could pull himself up. Dustin … not so much. It took for Lucas to stand on the toilet and shove at him, for him to be able to crawl into the vent after Steve, but eventually they were both there, crammed into the small space. Steve fumbled for the lighter he had in his pocket, and lit it in front of him, so that he’d see where he was going.

It was dark and tight, and Steve took a couple of seconds to calm his beating heart before he slowly started crawling down the vent. After all, if Billy could do this – and Billy was wider in the shoulders than he was – then so could he.

They crawled in total silence, just like they’d agreed upon. Billy had warned them that every little sound was amplified in the metal vents, so if they made any noise, they might be caught.

And probably killed, Steve mentally added, and shuddered at the thought.

The vent split off twice, but Billy had told him which way to go, and he followed the other boy’s directions. Eventually, he saw a light coming from a lattice in the … well, _floor_ of the vent, and he stopped and nudged Dustin with his foot to let him know that they were getting close and that they had to be extra careful. Dustin tapped his food twice to let him know he understood.

Carefully and oh so slowly, Steve crept up to the hatch, and craned his neck so that he could see better. He found himself looking down at Hopper’s office – he had been called in there quite a lot during his first years at Hawkins, so it was easily recognizable. It had been transformed a lot since then, though; there was a strange device on the desk with what looked like a hundred orange wires going into it, Dustin’s plane was leaning against the wall a distance away – and above all, the man sitting behind the desk, going through papers in the low light coming in from the window, wasn’t Hopper. Steve found himself holding his breath as he looked straight down at Ben Brenner’s blond head.

Steve glanced at his watch. They couldn’t do anything while Brenner was still in the office. Now it was up to the others to do their part. Steve only hoped that it would work, and no one would get hurt.

 

* * *

 

Billy checked the time for the third time in the last minute – he’d had to borrow Jonathan’s watch, since his had stopped working after his impromptu soaking the day before – and rubbed two fingers over his forehead. Even if Steve and Henderson had been really slow, they should be above Hopper’s office by now.

He looked over at Will, who was sitting with Mike and Max at another table. Subtly, he nodded. It was time.

Opposite to him was Jonathan, who had his back turned on the kids. He was wound tight, for good reason. They’d explained to him what they were going to do, and he had protested, just like Billy knew he would, but then Will had turned his big brown eyes on his brother and said “I can _do_ this”, and Jonathan had eventually crumbled – just like the rest of them had.

Billy had promised that he wouldn’t let anything happen to Will, but Jonathan had just given him a dark look at this – and honestly, people thought _Billy_ was bad, but Jonathan’s look right then had promised a world of pain if so much as a hair on Will’s head was harmed – and reached out to pull his brother into a one-armed hug.

Now, Billy watched over Jonathan’s shoulder as Mike stood up stiffly from where he was sitting with Max and Will, and pretended to lock eyes with someone he knew somewhere else in the room. He took a couple of steps forward before he stumbled clumsily. It didn’t look real in the least, and Billy wanted to hide his face in his hands in secondhand embarrassment for the kid, but luckily – or _not_ luckily, perhaps, for Mike – he managed to fake-trip into an empty chair and _actually_ trip over that chair, taking it down with him when he fell to the floor with a clatter.

All conversation, which had been hushed to start with, stopped, as everyone turned to look at Mike sprawled on the floor. He got up, long-limbed and awkward, and stammered something, face red. And just like they’d planned, one of the guards came up to them to see what all the ruckus was about.

“You!” the man said, holding the gun with both of his hands. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I– I–“, Mike stammered, and he wasn’t that good an actor so he had to actually be afraid right now. Billy almost felt sorry for him.

“Answer me!” the man said, sternly.

“I just– I fell, I’m sorry.”

The man was towering over Mike, and while the rest of the room watched the two of them, Billy kept his eyes on Will. And he had to give it to the kid – the widening of his eyes, and the way he paled and started breathing faster – it looked real.

The guard’s shift of focus from Mike to Will didn’t happen until Will abruptly stood up. His chair made a loud screeching noise against the floor, as he stumbled back and grabbed at his chest with one hand. The guard scowled at him, but Max stood up and got between them, her back to the armed man.

“Will? Are you okay?”

Will didn’t answer. Billy knew he wouldn’t, knew that this was the plan, but it made him uncomfortable to see the kid acting this way. Jonathan seemed to agree, because he was already standing up and moving, which _hadn’t_ been in their plans. Billy reached out to stop him, but too late. The guard turned his attention to Jonathan when he moved, and seemed to consider him the bigger threat in the current situation, because he turned and pointed his rifle at him. Jonathan hesitated, but at a loud gasp from Will, he took a second step forward.

“Please”, he said. “He’s my brother!”

The guard raised his gun a little more, but then Max cried out behind him, “He’s having a panic attack, I think! Get help!”

Her voice was wobbly and her face, when the guard turned around to look at her, was red and worried. (Billy was so proud.)

Two of the other guards – one of which were Michael, which made Billy shudder – had also come closer to see what the commotion was, leaving only the one called George by the door. When one of them reached out for Will, he gasped out loud and threw himself backward to get away from the man’s hand. He ended up on the floor, and continued crawling backward from there. At this, Jonathan didn’t seem to be able to help himself – he moved forward without hesitating. Before he’d even taken two steps, the first guard hit him over the head with the butt of his gun. It wasn’t a hard hit, but it was enough to make Jonathan drop to the ground. Will screamed and started breathing even faster, with his eyes locked on Jonathan, who was on his hands and knees on the floor.

Billy cursed inwardly, even as he saw Jonathan reach up with a shaky hand and hold his head, and spoke up to take the heat off the Byers’ brothers, if only temporarily.

“The kid is terrified!” he said and then pointed at Jonathan. “You hitting his brother isn’t gonna help with that!”

Michael – who was closest to him – turned on Billy, tightening the grip on his own gun, and Billy couldn’t stop himself from taking a step back and holding his hands out, trying to look as unthreatening as possible. Then Max spoke up – even though she wasn’t supposed to, but hey, their plan had been thrown out the window anyway – and her voice was tinted with hysteria.

“Can’t you see he can’t breathe? Get your boss or something!”

 

* * *

 

Steve wanted to fidget. He wanted to chew on his fingernails, he wanted to jiggle his leg, he wanted a goddamn _smoke_. What if they didn’t deem a kid having a panic attack a good enough reason to get Brenner? What if something went wrong, and someone got hurt? What if someone was _killed_? He wouldn’t know, from here. Not until it was too late.

How long were they supposed to wait?

As it turned out, not too long at all. There was a knock on the door, and Brenner said, “Come in.”

Steve couldn’t see who was at the door from this angle, but he heard someone’s voice.

“A kid is freaking out. We don’t know what to do with him.”

Brenner sighed, but got up from the desk and walked out of Steve’s line of vision. A few seconds later, he heard the door click shut. He counted to ten, just to be safe, before he pried open the hatch and crawled over the opening so he could get his legs down first. There was a second when he was hanging from the opening in the ceiling, right over Hopper’s desk, when he realized that he was incredibly exposed and that if someone was to enter the room right now, he’d be dead – but then he forcibly pushed those thoughts away and dropped down on the desk.

Best case scenario; they had a couple of minutes before Brenner or someone else got back. Better make the best of it.

Dustin’s face popped out from the hole in the ceiling, and he wasted no time in telling Steve what to do.

“The plane, get the plane!”

Steve ran to the plane, and followed Dustin’s whispered instructions in how to remove the chip from the belly of it. It took longer than he’d expected, and when he finally had it in his hands, Dustin directed him back to the desk.

“You see that box?”

He pointed to the weird-looking thing with all the wires.

“Yeah.” Steve reached out for it.

“No, no! Don’t touch it!” Steve froze with his hands inches away from it. “That’s the detonator. Do _not_ touch that box. Jesus. The _other_ box. The blue one, with the light on it.”

Steve saw a smaller box next to the first one, which had a little red light on it, just like the one that Brenner had taped around his wrist. He reached out for it, and looked at Dustin questioningly.

“Okay, that should be the remote control receiver.”

“’Should be’?”

“Yeah, well _excuse me_ for never having seen a _bomb_ before, Steve! I’m a kid!”

“Whatever, Dustin. _Focus._ What do I do?”

Dustin took a deep breath and tried to calm down.

“Okay. First, you take the casing off …”

 

* * *

 

When George had disappeared through the cafeteria doors – presumably to get Brenner – Michael had backed up a couple of steps and relaxed his posture. Billy had carefully bent down to help Jonathan up – while not taking his eyes off Michael and the other guards – and also held him back when he moved forward again, seemingly still intent on getting to his little brother’s side.

“Wait”, Billy hissed in his ear, and Jonathan – thankfully – listened. He didn’t take his eyes off Will, though.

Half the school was watching Will, actually, and Billy couldn’t help doing the same. The kid was pale, and sweating, and close to hyper-ventilating, and Billy was suddenly very worried that what was supposed to be a fake panic attack had become a real panic attack.

Everyone looked up when the doors slammed open a few minutes later, and Brenner strode in, followed by George who resumed his position by the door.

“What’s going on here?”

No one answered him, but they didn’t have to. He immediately spotted Will on the floor, and the way his men stood a short distance away, making sure no one got close to him. Brenner walked up to them and looked down at Will, a wrinkle between his eyebrows.

“What’s wrong with him?”

He directed his question at Michael, who raised one shoulder in the universal sign for ‘I dunno’. Jonathan – damn him, they had a _plan_ and Jonathan wasn’t sticking to it – spoke up.

“He’s my brother. He’s having a panic attack.”

Brenner regarded him coldly, and Billy – who was still holding Jonathan’s arm – could feel him tremble. Despite this, he pleaded, “Please, can I go to him?”

For a few seconds, Billy was certain that Brenner was going to refuse, but then he nodded. Jonathan was quick to move. Before he could reach Will, though, Brenner stopped him with a hand to his shoulder.

“What’s his name?”

“Will. Will Byers.”

Brenner let go of Jonathan – who didn’t waste any time in kneeling in front of Will, but didn’t touch him – and turned his head toward George at the door.

“Get me Will Byers’ file.”

 

* * *

 

“All right, okay … Now, very _very_ carefully … take the red chip out of the receiver.”

Steve frowned. “There is no red chip.”

“There must be.”

“I’m _sorry_ ”, Steve said irritatingly, “but there isn’t. There’s a _blue_ chip the same size as the red chip from the plane, but _there is no_ _red chip_!”

A beat of silence, then, “That must be it, then.”

“What do you mean ‘that must be it’?! If you’re wrong, we’ll all blow up!”

Steve didn’t take his eyes off what he was doing, but he saw movement at the edge of his vision and knew that Dustin was gesticulating wildly from the hole in the ceiling.

“I _mean_ that if there is no red chip, but there is a blue chip, then the blue chip must obviously be the one, Steve! _God_!”

“I’m _sorry_!” Steve ground out between clenched teeth and wiped his sweaty hand on his jeans, before reaching out for the blue chip.

Just then, they heard footsteps from outside the door, coming closer. Steve looked up at Dustin’s pale face, and for a second they just stared at each other. Then, they moved as one. Dustin shimmied back in the vent and reached down to pull the hatch closed, and Steve jumped over the desk – and crawled in underneath it just as the door opened.

Steve froze and held his breath. Someone was walking toward the desk with a determined stride. Steve closed his eyes. Heard whoever it was shuffle through the papers on the desk, before the steps retreated and the door slammed shut.

He let out a breath and tried to convince his limbs to move.

“Steve?” A hiss from the ceiling.

Steve cautiously glanced up. Dustin had let the hatch go again and was looking down on him with wide eyes. Whoever had been in here was gone, or Steve would be dead already. That had been way too close for comfort.

“Yeah”, he said. Got out from under the desk. Gave Dustin a quick look. And then he took a deep breath and yanked the blue chip out of the receiver.

 

* * *

 

Will and Jonathan were at the center of attention in the room, even though Jonathan was seemingly doing his best to ignore it. He was on his knees right in front of his brother, without touching him, and spoke softly to him and tried to keep Will’s eyes on his. Brenner kept his eyes on the two of them, and Billy kept his eyes on Brenner. Which was why he saw clearly when the little light on the detonator that Brenner wore around his wrist turned off. Billy held his breath, eyes wide. If Brenner noticed the light was off, they were fucked.

Then Brenner sighed and rubbed his fingers over his forehead – thankfully not using the hand with the detonator – and Billy knew he had to do something.

“He needs a hospital”, he blurted.

It worked, in that it turned Brenner’s attention to him. When Brenner’s eyes met his, he took an instinctive step back and tensed up. Brenner noticed, and cocked his head to the side.

“What?”

The light was still turned off. Billy licked his lips and shook his head.

“I didn’t mean to … I just –”

Brenner walked toward him, and without thinking Billy backed up until his back hit something hard – a pillar, probably – which aggravated his bruises and made him wince. Brenner came up close, too close, and Billy turned his face away.

“Are you a medical professional, Billy?” Brenner’s voice was the same kind of calm it had been in Hopper’s office yesterday, when he had asked Billy about his father.

“No, sir”, Billy replied in a voice that was barely above a whisper. “Sorry. But please, he’s just a scared kid.”

Since he was looking down, he saw when the light on the detonator turned back on. He let out a breath, which was disguised as a gasp when Brenner reached for him.

He wasn’t the only one to have seen the light turn on, though – or maybe the kid’s timing was just that good. Because before Brenner could touch him, Will let out a loud sob – which drew everyone’s attention back on him – and then threw himself into Jonathan’s arms before starting to cry in earnest. Jonathan, bewildered, clung to him as if someone would try to take him away, and shielded him as best as he could from the curious glances from the people in the room, all while whispering soothing words in his ear.

“It’s good”, he said to Brenner and the guards when they looked at him. “He’s okay. We’re okay.”

Brenner raised his eyebrows at one of his men, gave Billy one last look, and then turned to walk out. Just then, George returned, holding some papers in his hand. Brenner met up with him by the door and spent half a minute reading through them, and then he looked back at the Byers brothers with an unreadable expression. Billy glanced over at them. Jonathan was still hugging Will close, and Will was clinging to Jonathan and burying his head in his shirt. When Billy looked back at Brenner, he saw the man give a short nod before he exited the room.

The room as a whole seemed to release a collective breath when the doors shut behind him and Atwell, even though there were still four armed men in the room. Billy sagged against the pillar and tried to calm his racing heartbeat. The fact that Michael resumed his position in the other end of the room helped.

Eventually, people started calming down. They sat down at the tables, resumed their conversations. Only a few threw glances at Will and Jonathan, who had moved to sit at the table in the corner of the cafeteria, furthest from the door. Max and Mike sat down on the other side of the table, and Mike reached out his hand to grab at Will’s hand over the table. Billy walked up to them, too.

“You okay?” he asked Will without looking at him, instead keeping his eyes trained on the nearest guard.

“Yeah”, Will said shakily and leaned into Jonathan’s side.

“That was awesome, kid”, Billy couldn’t help saying. “And if anyone ever gives you shit for this, or for _anything_? You tell me, and I’ll kick their asses.”

He risked a look at him, and was met with Will’s wide eyes, but also a small smile. Jonathan wasn’t smiling, though – his face was grim. There was a reddish mark on the side of his forehead, just by the temple, that would probably turn into a bruise.

“You okay, man?” Billy asked him.

“Yeah”, Jonathan answered, shortly, and hugged Will closer.

Jonathan probably wouldn’t even wait until Billy was asleep before he killed him for allowing Will to put himself in this position. Billy would _definitely_ have to get a new roommate when all this was over. He thought about apologizing again, but that’s when he looked up to see one of the guards entering the bathroom.

“Oh no.”

 

* * *

 

Lucas swore internally when the man came in to the bathroom, and hurriedly turned and pretended to be washing his hands under the running water. He gave a shaky smile at the man when he passed, and waited for him to walk into one of the stalls. Before the man did that, though, he turned to Lucas with a wary frown. Lucas, swearing under his breath while maintaining the smile on his face, turned off the tap and reached for a couple of paper towels.

As the man was still watching him, he had no choice but to dry off his hands, throw the paper towels and exit the bathroom.

As soon as he reentered the cafeteria, he sought out his friends. From the other end of the room, his eyes met with Billy’s, and he tried to communicate with raised eyebrows alone that they were in trouble.

 

* * *

 

They hadn’t blown up, which was a big plus in Steve’s book. They hadn’t heard any gunfire either, which was another good sign. Now they were slowly making their way back through the vents so that they could re-join their friends in the cafeteria for the next stage of their plan.

It was slow going. Dustin couldn’t exactly turn around in the narrow vent, so he had to move backward. Steve moved forward, since he’d crawled back in the vent face first, and was thus face to face with Dustin. Despite this, they didn’t talk for most of the way back.

“Hey wait”, Steve whispered when they were almost back at the bathroom.

Dustin stopped.

“Do you hear running water?”

Dustin listened intently, then nodded. “Yeah.”

“Good”, Steve said. “Just wanna make sure the coast is clear.”

Dustin reached the hatch first, and managed to kick it open and lower himself down. Steve followed right behind him; crawled over the opening first, so he could lower himself down onto the side of the stalls, feet first, and then jump down to the floor from there.

“I can’t believe that actually worked, guys, well d–“

He turned around, and was met with a rifle aimed straight at his face. He could vaguely see Dustin stand off to the side with his hands raised, face pale. If he focused on something a little bit further off than the barrel of the gun he could see that the man’s hands were wet – like he’d been washing his hands but hadn’t had time to dry them off before Dustin and Steve dropped down from the ceiling.

Steve held back a groan. Slowly raising his hands, he flinched at the sudden movement when the man jerked his gun to the side, indicating that Steve should go join Dustin by the wall.

He’d barely taken two steps when the door to the bathroom opened, and the guard turned his head. Reacting on instinct, Steve grabbed the man’s rifle and tried to wrench it away from him and Dustin both. In the corner of his eye he saw someone jump on the back of the guard and try to wrestle him to the ground, and he was unsurprised to find – once he’d put his body around the man’s arm and managed to make him drop the weapon – that that someone was Billy.

Steve kicked the gun away as the man bent down to grab it, and tackled him back against the wall. What he didn’t have time to consider was that Billy was still clinging to the man’s back, and that meant that Billy was the one to take the brunt of the force when all of them crashed into the towel dispenser which was mounted on the wall behind them. Steve heard a clank, and a grunt of pain, and then they all fell to the ground; Steve first, with the man on top of him, and then Billy somewhere above them. The man wasn’t down for the count, though, and punched Steve in the face while trying to crawl out from between them. He opened his mouth to scream, but a hand came out of nowhere and clamped down over his mouth. Steve took the opportunity to punch the guy in the face in retaliation.

None of them were really getting anywhere, though – they were just writhing around in a pile on the tiled floor of the bathroom – so Steve looked around him for anything that could help. He spotted Dustin, who had picked up the man’s rifle and was now holding it awkwardly in both hands.

“Hit him, Dustin!” he managed before the man put his hands around his throat and squeezed. He tried to punch him again, but couldn’t pull his arm back enough to do so, and instead scratched at the man’s hands to try and get him to release his hold.

“ _Hit him_ , kid!” he heard Billy’s voice say, just as Billy pulled the man’s head as far up – and away from Steve – as he could. By his hair, probably.

And Dustin, bless him, did. He swung the gun like a club and managed to hit the man square in the face. It wasn’t enough to knock him unconscious, but it was enough to make him release Steve – and Billy took his chance and slammed the man’s face down into the tiles, twice. When he let go, the man didn’t move.

Steve coughed and weakly pushed at the man’s shoulder, so he’d be able to get out from under him, and accepted Billy’s outstretched hand to help him get to his feet.

He was swaying a little where he stood, Billy was grimacing and rolling his shoulders, and Dustin was leaning on the rifle like it was a cane while staring, wide-eyed, at the unconscious terrorist on the floor.

All of them were standing, though, and mobile, and no matter how much Steve wanted to ask how everyone was doing, there was no time for it right now. They needed to get the next part of their plan into motion.

He reached out for the rifle, and his eyes met Billy’s. Neither of them spoke, but Billy gave a sharp nod and walked out of the bathroom.


	9. Chapter 9

Hopper hadn’t slept at all during the night; he’d refused to leave for as long as there was planning going on, and when they finally ushered him away to sleep, he kept tossing and turning instead of sleeping. He was up before the sun, to overlook the preparations and trying to keep out of the way so they wouldn’t make him leave.

When it was time to move out, Hopper had been ready for an hour already, and was smoking his fifth cigarette for the day when John waved him over to a group of armed men in camouflage clothing. All in all, there were eight men there, not counting John.

John introduced him to everyone, but didn’t bother with their names. Hopper was glad; he wasn’t going to remember them anyway. The only important thing right now was getting this over with, without anyone getting hurt.

They drove a couple of jeeps as far as they could, and then Hopper showed them the way through the foliage until they reached the storm drain. And that’s where John nodded to Hopper.

“Thanks, Jim. We’ll take it from here.”

 _Not_ what Hopper had in mind.

“I’m going with you.”

He took a couple of steps forward, but John put his hand on Hopper’s chest to stop him.

“No, you’re not.”

Hopper glanced at the other men, who were busy checking their guns and going over last-minute plans, and lowered his voice.

“They’re my kids in there, John.”

John, too, spoke in a lower voice. “I understand that, but I can’t risk dragging a civilian into this operation. There is too much at stake here.”

A beat of silence, then Hopper answered. “How about I come with you as far as the tree line? I won’t jeopardize this, I promise. But the only way I’m staying here is if you knock me out.”

John looked like he was considering doing exactly that for a couple of seconds, before he sighed.

“Fine. But you move _no longer_ than the tree line, or you put your students’ lives in jeopardy.”

“Promise.”

 

* * *

 

Billy’s back felt like it was on fire as he walked across the cafeteria, and he had to grit his teeth to be able to act casual. He met Jonathan’s eyes across the room, and Lucas’, and Max’s, and tried to convey to them that it was time. They each had their parts to play, and his was taking him into the kitchen.

He saw, out of the corner of his eye, how one of the armed men – George – turned toward him and started walking just as Billy entered the kitchen.

Flo and Cal were there, trying to prepare some kind of breakfast without the use of anything that needed electricity, and they both looked up as he entered. He just shook his head at them, and Flo raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. Cal looked between them, and then followed her lead.

Billy went over to the rack which had all the pots and pans on them, and deliberately kept his back to the door when George entered.

“Hey”, George said. “You’re not supposed to leave the cafeteria. What are you doing in here?”

Billy turned around with a surprised look on his face, holding a heavy pan in one hand and a shiny pot in the other.

“What? I’m on kitchen duty.” He shrugged and indicated the items he was holding. “Flo told me to come and help out.”

George’s eyes narrowed at this, and he turned to Flo. “Is that true?”

And Billy struck, fast. A hard hit with the frying pan to the back of George’s head, and he dropped like stone. Cal swore out loud, startled, but Flo only watched it happen with a blank look on her face.

“Not in the least”, she drawled at the unconscious George, as Billy bent down and snatched up his gun.

“Thanks”, he said to Flo when he moved to the door. “Hey, do me a favor, okay? Take those carts away and get the cellar door open.”

“What?” Cal said, apparently still reeling.

Billy didn’t waste time explaining, because Flo was already moving and he had more important things to do. Glancing out through the window in the door, he saw that the cafeteria was halfway into chaos – which in this case was probably a good thing.

He barged through the doors, holding the gun, and looked around. Brian, Mark and a couple of their friends had managed to get Michael on the floor and disarm him, and as Billy watched, Brian kicked him in the face (Billy would keep that mental image to enjoy later). The other guard was on the other side of the room with a veritable horde of students over him – one of which was Carol, who was currently beating on him with a plastic tray. Billy started making his way over there, but the guard was subdued before he’d gotten halfway through the room.

Steve and Dustin – Steve holding the rifle – had come out of the bathroom, and just like that there were no active hostiles left in sight. It was still too early to celebrate, though. Billy jumped up on one of the tables and held up the gun.

“Everyone!” he bellowed and pointed to the kitchen. “Get to the kitchen and down to the cellar.” For just a second, no one moved, until he yelled, “ _Now_! Flo will show you. Go!”

That had them moving – the fact that Steve was waving for them to get a move on probably helped, too – and they emptied the cafeteria of people in less than half a minute. Billy was the last one to leave, and he went into the kitchen to see Flo guide people down the stairs to the cellar. Only one person went _up_ the stairs, though, and Billy grinned when he saw her.

“Jane! Good to see you.”

She gave him a small smile too, and shouldered her way past a few people who were going down the stairs.

“You too.”

“Hey, kid”, Billy said and raised his eyebrows at her, and also looked Mark – who was standing behind her, holding the gun he’d stolen from Michael – in the eyes. “I need you to do me a favor. I need you to make sure that everyone gets into the room behind the crates, okay? And then make sure they stay there. Can you do that for me?”

She nodded seriously and turned to walk down the stairs with the rest of them, and Mark nodded to let him know that he’d heard, too. Between the two of them, they’d be able to get everyone into the hidden room.

Billy turned to Flo and nodded. “Make sure they behave down there.”

Flo gave him a flat look as she descended the stairs, which he interpreted as ‘no problem’, because it was _Flo_. By now, everyone had left, and Billy was the only one left in the kitchen. He closed the hatch and started dragging the carts back over it so it looked inconspicuous. At the exact moment when he’d taken a step back to check if something would be able to give the entrance away, the door to the kitchen flew open and Billy whirled around, raising his gun.

But it was only Steve.

Steve, who was apparently _not_ in the cellar with the rest of them.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Billy hissed. “I thought you were with everyone else.”

“I dragged the bad guys to the bathroom”, Steve said, as if that explained everything. “It might buy us time.”

“You were supposed to be down there!”

“So were you!”

“ _Someone_ had to put everything back so they can’t find the entrance!”

“Oh, and that someone just _had_ to be you?”

“Well, it’s not like anyone would miss _me_!”

Steve opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a loud boom from outside, making them both whirl around. They could feel the vibrations in the floor, and when they turned back their eyes met, and their earlier argument was forgotten.

“What was that?”

“I guess … I guess they’re coming for us.”

“Okay”, Steve said and readjusted his grip on the rifle he’d commandeered. “We should … we should help.”

“Help?”

“Yeah. Even if the chip thing worked, Brenner can still set off the bombs manually from Hopper’s office. We should … we should try to stop him.”

Billy stared at him, mouth hanging open.

“Are you kidding? We’re gonna die!”

Steve wilted a bit, and Billy sighed. “You’re fucking stupid.” But he grabbed his own gun in both of his hands and stood up straighter.

Steve gave him a shaky smile. “So we’re doing this?”

“I guess.”

“All right then. Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

Hopper had followed the men through the storm drain and then through the woods, until they could see the school building in the distance. They were splitting up into two teams, and Hopper – as promised – stayed back and watched as they went in two different directions; John’s team went for the main entrance, and the remaining four men – including the bomb guy – went for Hopper’s office, after he had pointed out where it was located.

A helicopter flew over their heads, and Hopper ducked down instinctively when he heard gunfire. That was nothing, though, compared to the bang that was heard when the terrorists on the roof fired some kind of rocket toward the helicopter and missed, and it detonated somewhere behind all of them. Hopper looked up, and saw that the team of armed men had used the distraction and were now running along the school’s outer wall, toward his office.

And that’s where it went to shit.

There was gunfire, both from the roof and from somewhere else close by, and then one of the terrorists who were engaged with the helicopter shouted something, and someone fell from the roof. Hopper looked up just in time to see that one of the terrorists was falling, and that he would fall basically on top of the team, and that something small and round was falling from his hand …

He didn’t have time to shout a warning.

The grenade went off, and there was an explosion. Hopper swore and turned away, and when he looked back a couple of seconds later, a part of the wall was scorched and the members of the team were lying on the grass, like they were dolls that someone had dropped. Only two of them seemed to be moving.

Disregarding everything he’d been told, and ignoring the gunshots he could still hear over the sounds of the helicopter overhead, Hopper ran. He was halfway across the lawn before he knew it, and he slid down next to the first downed man only seconds after. He rolled the man over – he was bloody and his eyes were closed – and felt for a pulse, and was beyond relieved when he found one. One man was painstakingly trying to get to his feet, only to stagger down on one knee next to one of his wounded teammates and fumble to check on him.

The terrorist who had fallen was lying face down on the grass, and–

Hopper looked away. There was no way that man was alive.

But one man remained – the bomb guy with the impressive moustache – and he was making sounds of pain as he was struggling to get up. Hopper kneeled next to him and checked him over. The man’s leg was bloody and bent at a wrong angle, but when he noticed Hopper next to him, he squared his jaw and inhaled through his nose.

“Get me to your office.”

 

* * *

 

No matter what their intentions had been, Billy and Steve didn’t make it far. They’d only just exited the kitchen when they heard running steps coming from the hallway outside the cafeteria. Staring at each other for half a second, they darted in different directions; Steve threw himself behind an overturned table, and Billy ran for the bathroom. He left it open a glimpse so he could see what was going on, and was just in time to see Brenner and Atwell barge in through the door.

The rage-filled roar that Brenner let out at the sight of the empty room made his hair stand on end, and he held his breath as he watched him make his way to the kitchen. Atwell, though, was striding toward the bathroom door, and Billy swore under his breath, jumped over one of the unconscious bodies on the floor (Steve seemed to have just dragged them in there and put them in a pile) and slipped into one of the stalls just as the door to the bathroom opened.

But Atwell must have seen him move or something, because he barked “You! Get out here!” – and Billy had no choice but to carefully open the door to the stall and come out with his hands up, fingers spread wide. Atwell was pointing a gun in his face, and Billy swallowed, half-expecting a bullet to the head.

It happened fast. The door to the bathroom opened, and Atwell glanced over his shoulder and started saying something. In the next second, his head snapped around and he fell to the floor, revealing Steve standing behind him, holding his rifle high – having apparently hit Atwell with the butt of the gun.

Billy gaped, and watched as Steve raised the gun again and brought it down on Atwell – who, in Steve’s defense, was groaning and still moving. With a dull _thud_ , Atwell was out of commission, and Billy opened his mouth to say something – anything.

And that’s when the door opened again, and in the next breath Brenner had snaked an arm around Steve’s throat and was holding a handgun to his temple. His face was calm, but his eyes were dark with anger when he said in an icy voice, “Drop. It.”

Steve, who had tensed up, dropped the rifle to the floor. Billy found that he himself had raised his gun and was pointing it at Brenner and Steve, but he didn’t remember raising it. And judging by Brenner’s cold sneer, he looked about as threatening as he was feeling right now – which was not at all. His eyes were wide and his heart was beating a mile a minute. Despite this, he kept the gun trained on Brenner.

“I will shoot him”, Brenner said and pressed the gun harder against Steve’s head, making him grunt in discomfort. “ _Drop it._ ”

Billy looked at Steve, who stared back with a look of _something_ on his face – something that Billy didn’t understand. Billy held out for maybe two seconds before he dropped his gun, too, and let it clatter to the floor. Brenner raised his eyebrows, and Billy slowly raised his hands over his head.

“Where is everyone?”

Brenner glanced down at the pile of unconscious terrorists on the tiled floor, and then looked up when he didn’t receive an answer.

He tightened his grip around Steve’s throat and yelled, “ _Where are they?!_ ” so close to his ear that Steve flinched.

“They went out the back door!” Billy blurted. “Some people opened it from the outside. You’re too late. Everyone’s gone.”

He couldn’t stop the waver in his voice, and prayed that Brenner hadn’t taken too good a look at the door when he was in the kitchen. Brenner growled, but then there was the sound of gunfire and distant shouts from outside, making them all turn their heads slightly toward the door – Steve less than the other two, because of Brenner’s hold on him.

“You”, Brenner said and nodded to Billy. “Walk. Now. If you try anything, I’ll shoot you both.”

He motioned to the door and dragged Steve back a couple of steps so that Billy could pass them. Billy, reluctantly, did. Brenner followed behind, forcing Steve to move with him, and as they entered the cafeteria again, Brenner nodded toward the door.

“Move.”

So Billy walked. Through the doors and down the corridor, still with his hands over his head – he still might get a bullet to the back, but he didn’t want it to be because of something stupid, like simply lowering his hands. He could hear Brenner and Steve shuffling behind him – and from outside, gunfire and the occasional explosion.

“What’s going on out there?” he heard Steve ask – probably as some kind of distraction, but it didn’t work, as Brenner didn’t reply.

Billy was trying to walk as slow as possible, hoping that someone would burst through the doors – or the windows, _whatever_ really – and _do something_ , but Brenner just said “Hurry up” and a second later Steve made a pained little noise, which made Billy speed up.

They got to the front doors, and Billy half expected Brenner to use them as human shields to try to shoot his way out, but he only got a gruff “Keep moving” when he hesitated by the doors.

Hopper’s office it was, then.

From the outside, they could hear the sounds of guns firing, voices shouting, and at least one helicopter hovering – but in this empty hallway, all that was heard was the sound of their steps echoing between the walls. It was an eerie kind of stillness in the hallway, contrasting against everything that was probably going on outside.

When they reached Hopper’s office, Billy turned and looked at Brenner with a question in his eyes. Brenner nodded. “Get in.”

Inside the office, Brenner had Billy stand facing the far wall, with his hands on the back of his head. He could hear Brenner drag Steve toward the desk, and then he flinched at the sound of a radio crackling to life.

“Rob? Report.” No answer. “Carlos, report.” Still no answer. “ _Report!_ ” The only reply was static.

Billy ducked his head and whirled around when something hit the wall next to his head, and when he looked down he saw the broken pieces of the radio on the floor at his feet. He glanced up and took in the sight in front of him; Brenner was still holding Steve in a tight grip with his arm around Steve’s throat, and with the other hand he was picking up his gun, which he had apparently put on the desk. Steve was grabbing Brenner’s arm with both his hands, but wasn’t trying to get free. He made a sound of discomfort when Brenner yanked his body backward and put the muzzle of the gun to his temple.

“Wait–“, he began, but Brenner pressed the gun harder against his head and he snapped his mouth shut.

“It’s over”, Billy said, still with his hands up. “You’ve lost.”

Brenner’s attention snapped to him, and his eyes darkened.

“No”, he said in a voice too calm for the kind of situation they were in, “we _all_ lose.”

And with that, and before ether Steve or Billy had time to react, he reached for the button on the device around his wrist. Steve shouted “No!” and tried to rip the man’s arm away, and Billy darted forwards even though he knew he wasn’t going to make it in time–

Brenner pushed the button.

Everyone froze.

Nothing blew up.

Then, from the corner of the room, a whirring sound made them all turn and look. And Billy suddenly had the irrational urge to laugh, because the sound came from Dustin’s ugly plane, which was leaning against the far wall and was currently trying – and failing – to lift off the floor. In the end, it just clattered to the floor and rolled up against a cabinet, where it got stuck halfway under it, still with its propellers running.

Billy let out a breath and Steve gave a hoarse laugh in relief, but Brenner? He _screamed_. His eyes were wide and mad, and Billy saw him glance over his shoulder at the mess of wires that connected to the detonator on the desk – just a few short steps away. Steve, probably realizing that Brenner could still set off the bombs if he got his hands on it, started struggling to pull them both away from the desk. Billy saw the way Brenner’s finger twitched toward the trigger and took another couple of steps forward, before he noticed movement at the window behind the desk.

Someone was outside!

Not daring to look for much longer, in case he’d make Brenner aware of it, he drew himself up and raised his chin in defiance.

“You’ve _lost_ ”, he repeated in a loud voice to keep Brenner’s attention on him, and even mustered up a somewhat shaky grin. It worked, as Brenner stopped trying to fight Steve, and his eyes snapped up to meet Billy’s.

“We switched the chips”, Billy continued, trying his best to sound as smug as possible. “And we let all the hostages out, too.”

He saw Brenner clench his jaw, but the gun was still trained on Steve’s head. Behind them, someone moved on the other side of the window, but Billy didn’t dare look away from Brenner. He straightened up, and cocked his head to the side.

“It was my plan, originally, because _fuck you_. I honestly didn’t think that you’d be stupid enough for it to work, though, but you proved me wrong.”

Steve was shaking his head in warning, eyes wide, but Brenner didn’t even seem to notice – all his attention was trained on Billy, who continued, “I mean, that distraction in the cafeteria worked better than we thought – and you fell for it. And did you _really_ think that I was in the shower yesterday?”

Brenner’s eyes narrowed, and he tightened his grip on the gun. Billy’s hands twitched, but he kept talking. “Hell no, I brought the plans to the outside, to make this happen. To _take you down_. And you had _no idea_! You thought you punished me for being _late_!” He grinned again, and this time he managed to make it look more real. “You should have just shot me while you had the chance, asshole.”

Everything happened at once; Brenner roared and hit Steve in the side of the head with the butt of the gun before shoving him to the side so he could aim the gun at Billy. The glass of the window exploded inwards as someone broke through it from the outside. And two shots were fired, almost simultaneously.

 

* * *

 

Hopper had managed to half-carry, half-drag the man so that they were right underneath the little outcrop under Hopper’s window. The plan had been to get the team up onto that outcrop, and then from there and through the window into the office; take out any and all terrorists there, and disarm the bomb. But there was no way this guy was going to climb that outcrop with his bad leg, and Hopper wasn’t strong enough to carry him up there, with all the gear the man was wearing.

The man realized this, too, and pressed a gun and a knife into Hopper’s hands. Before Hopper could speak, he gasped, “You have to disable the bomb. There should be a receiver with wires running into it. That should be connected to a bigger device with two or three larger wires. Cut any of those wires that _isn’t_ two wires entwined together, do you understand me?”

“Oh God”, Hopper said, but nodded. “Leave the wire that is two wires entwined together, and cut the rest. Got it.”

“Good”, the man said and leaned heavily against the wall where Hopper had helped him sit.

The sound of gunfire from around the corner sounded closer, somehow, and it spurred Hopper into action. He heaved himself up on the outcrop – distantly, he reflected that it was _way too easy_ to get into his office this way; he vowed to move his office to the second floor if they got out of this okay – and then he crawled over it until he got to the window. He heard a scream from within and carefully craned his neck so he could peer into the room. The sight that met him through the glass was one he hadn’t expected – although perhaps he should have.

Billy Hargrove, of all people, was standing with his hands splayed in front of him, looking too comfortable for someone who was in the same room with an armed terrorist – because facing him, with his back to Hopper and the window, was Ben Brenner, and he was holding someone else hostage, with a gun to the head. Hopper couldn’t see who it was, but he could see Billy’s mouth move, even though he couldn’t hear what he was saying. He was smirking, though – no doubt antagonizing the terrorist somehow.

The briefest twitch of Billy’s eye was all that it took for Hopper to realize that Billy was aware of Hopper here, outside the window. He wasn’t antagonizing Brenner, he was _distracting_ him.

Well. Hopper wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He took a step back and grabbed the knife in one hand. Raised it.

He heard Brenner scream in anger just as he brought the knife down, hilt-first, against the glass; shattering it. He was just in time to see Brenner push whoever he’d been holding to the floor and train his gun on Billy.

Hopper didn’t think. He raised the gun in his own hand and took the shot, an instant before another shot rang out in the room.

Many years ago, when his life was going in an entirely different direction, he had graduated from the Police Academy at the top of his class. Now, his shot hit Brenner in the back of the head, and Brenner went down.

He couldn’t see Billy, though. Frantic, and too intent on getting in there to make sure Brenner was down for the count, and to make sure that his students were alive and well, he climbed through the window without a care for the sharp shards still stuck in the frame. Once on the inside, he almost slipped on the broken glass on the floor, but he righted himself by grabbing the edge of the desk.

Leaning over it, he could see Steve Harrington lying on the floor, groaning and holding his head. Alive.

A short distance away, Brenner’s body was lying face down in a growing pool of blood. Definitely _not_ alive.

And Billy? Was pressed up against the wall, hunched down, staring between Hopper and Brenner’s body on the floor. There was blood all over his face and chest, and Hopper’s heart skipped a beat.

“Billy?”

Billy looked up, as if in a daze.

“Are you okay?” Hopper asked and took a couple of steps forward.

Billy seemed to shake himself out of it. He blinked, and cleared his throat. “Uh. Yeah.”

Hopper wanted to check on them both, but as much as he hated the thought of it, he had more pressing matters to attend to; namely defusing a bomb. He knew that the plan had been for the kids to switch some kind of chip, but no one had expected them to succeed in this task, and even if Brenner was dead, there was no guarantee that there wasn’t another remote detonator somewhere. Hopper had to make sure it wouldn’t kill them all.

The detonator was a mess of wires, just like he’d been told, and it was also connected to a larger device with thicker wires. One of them consisted of two intertwined thinner wires, and Hopper breathed out a sigh of relief. So far, it was just like the guy had said.

He put the blade of his knife against the other two wires – the ones he was supposed to cut. And even though he _knew_ that these were the ones, even though he was 100% sure he was following the right directions, a part of him still expected the world to blow up when he cut them.

When nothing happened, he breathed out in relief. Suddenly, all tension left his body and he was left with only the exhaustion, which had been building up for the last couple of days. He could feel every ache and pain in his body, including the cuts he’d gotten when smashing his way through a window, and he sagged against the desk. Without meaning to, he sat down on the floor, leaning against the desk, and stared straight ahead.

Billy had gotten to his feet, and was just kneeling – more like falling to his knees, actually – at Steve’s side, carefully reaching out to touch his head.

“You okay there, Harrington?”

Steve nodded unsteadily, and then frowned. “Shit, Billy. That’s a lot of blood.”

Billy sat down on the floor next to him and dragged his hand over his face, only managing to smear the blood that was splattered there. “It’s not mine. Most of it, at least.”

Hopper frowned at this, and Steve, too, seemed to have heard it. “’Most of it’?”

Billy smiled shakily and motioned to his upper arm, where Hopper could now see a gash from where blood was running down his arm. “Just a graze, Harrington, don’t worry. It won’t even scar.”

Steve closed his eyes and smiled, even though it looked more like a grimace, and gingerly touched the side of his head. “Too bad. I’ve heard chicks dig scars.”

Billy gave a hoarse laugh, too, but stopped when Steve’s fingers came away red.

“Okay”, Billy said, “we should probably get you checked up by a doctor or something.” He looked over at Hopper, who was sitting a couple of steps away. “You too. Sir.”

Hopper looked down at his arms. He had a couple of cuts on each arm, and his leg was smarting and bleeding as well. Going in through a broken window hadn’t been his brightest idea.

Still. “ _All of us_ will go to the hospital”, he said and stared pointedly at Billy’s arm. “As soon as someone comes for us, because I wanna make sure we’re not going to run into trouble as we leave. Plus, I sure as shit don’t feel like moving right now.”

That had both boys attempting a smile. Hopper, too, managed an upwards tick of his lips.

The gunfire from the outside was winding down. Hopper hoped that was a good sign.

 

* * *

 

Billy didn’t look at Brenner’s body again, once he’d left his spot at the wall. It was enough that he had looked the man in the eyes as he died – Billy didn’t think he’d ever get that image out of his head; first, Brenner’s face, twisted in fury while he raised his gun to shoot … and then, that face exploding in a mess of red half a second later. His expression didn’t even change. The man died furious.

Billy had plopped down on the floor by Steve’s side, his back to the body, and hadn’t even glanced at it again.

He was wiped.

He was also trembling, and he didn’t know why. He figured that if he could just sit here for a while, he’d be good to go in a minute or so. There was so much he should be doing, but right now he couldn’t muster up the energy to move. He had a thousand questions for Hopper, but the man had slid down to the floor and looked as reluctant to move as Billy felt, so he figured it could wait. Everything could wait.

They were all hurt, and whatever adrenaline that had taken them this far was gone. The shouts from outside quieted. The shooting stopped. Neither one of the people in the office talked; they just sat (or in Steve’s case; laid) there, in absolute stillness, listening to their own breaths.

Billy found that he had almost closed his eyes when the door to the room abruptly opened, and suddenly there was a lot of shouting and pointing with various guns – Hopper pointed his at the men by the door, and the men by the door pointed their guns at just about everything else. Billy only caught a glimpse of them before he threw himself down over Steve – to protect him or to make himself a smaller target, he couldn’t say. All he knew was that there were men with guns there and that he had already seen too many people get shot.

It turned out, though, that the men were on their side. Hopper was shouting at them and painstakingly getting up from his spot on the floor, and there was a crackle from a radio, and then Hopper pointed to the window and said something. During all of this, Billy stayed hunched over Steve, barely breathing. He couldn’t hear all that the voices were saying, but he felt the tension in the room ease up and cautiously looked up. The first thing he saw was Steve’s brown eyes, looking confused and slightly unfocused, too close for comfort.

“Hi?” Steve said.

“Uh. Hi.”

Billy sat up. It didn’t seem like anyone would get shot in here, after all.

Well. Anyone _else._

Someone walked up to them, and Billy tilted his head up to see who it was. Just that simple motion took too much effort, but he was relieved to see Hopper stand there, an indecipherable expression on his face.

“Are you okay?”

Billy blinked. “You already asked that. Sir.”

Hopper huffed out a laugh, but reached down to help him to his feet. When he seemed satisfied that Billy wasn’t going to collapse on him, he patted him on the arm – not the injured one, thankfully – and together, they helped a swaying Steve to his feet. They each took one of his arms to steady him.

“This way”, one of the men in the room said, and motioned for them to follow.

“One would think that I knew the way through my own school”, he heard Hopper mutter from the side. “I’ve only been walking these halls for eight years.”

Billy snorted, and was rewarded with an almost-smile from the headmaster.

When they reached the front entrance, Steve straightened up and stopped walking. He sighed contentedly and said, “That is so beautiful …”

Billy followed his gaze. The doors were wide open, and beyond them were the trees and the road that led out through the gates and eventually into town. But he understood what Steve meant; it wasn’t just trees and a road.

It was freedom.

Steve was right. It was beautiful.

“Sure is”, Billy agreed and patted him on the back. Steve gave him a loopy smile, and they resumed walking.

When they got down the stairs, and onto the gravel, a man wearing green and black face paint placed himself in their way, and addressed Hopper.

“We are trying to locate the rest of the students. Are they safe?”

Hopper turned to Billy and Steve for an answer to that question – eyebrows raised, as if he himself was surprised he hadn’t thought to ask that before – and Billy nodded.

“They’re in the cellar.” The man in front of them nodded, but didn’t move.

“Where is that?”

Billy glanced over at Steve, who was frowning. He didn’t really want to leave, but. “I can … show you.”

He looked around him for someone else to take over his place by Steve’s side, but Steve tightened his grip on his shoulder, and Hopper shook his head and spoke up.

“Nope”, he said, addressing the other man. “This guy’s getting checked up by a medical professional before I let him out of my sight. The entrance to the cellar you’re looking for is in the floor in the corner of the kitchen –“

“Under the metal carts”, Billy helpfully added.

“– under the metal carts”, Hopper added. “You can find it yourselves. _We_ –“ He indicated the three of them; himself, Steve and Billy, “– are going to find a paramedic.”

Steve had been nodding along to what Hopper was saying, but at this, he frowned. “But the others?”

“No buts, Steve”, Hopper said in his best ‘I am the headmaster, do what I say’-voice. “I’m sure these highly trained professionals, who just took down a number of armed terrorists, can handle moving a couple of carts and herding a group of children through a couple of doors.”

That sounded exactly like what Billy and Steve and the others had just been doing, actually. And it reminded Billy of something.

“Speaking of …” he said, licking his lips and resolutely not looking anyone in the eye. “There are a couple of knocked-out guys in the cafeteria bathroom. You might want to make sure they’re still … out.”

He could feel Hopper’s and the other man’s eyes on him, so he busied himself with adjusting his hold on Steve, and after a couple of seconds of silence, the man thanked them gruffly and stepped out of their way. A jeep materialized in front of them, and it was a relief to be able to get in and sit down – sometime in the last five minutes, Billy’s legs had started shaking.

Whoever was driving – Billy didn’t even lift his eyes to check, even as he thought he _should_ – drove them to the outside of the school gates, where a crowd of people and vehicles were waiting for them. It was a little intimidating, even though most people there seemed to be busy with one thing or another, and didn’t pay them much mind.

The jeep stopped down the road, where a couple of ambulances were parked, and they were each handed off to a paramedic. Billy found himself explaining to a nice plump lady that he was fine, and that the blood on his face wasn’t his, and that his arm hurt a little but it wasn’t bad, and that he wasn’t hurt anywhere else, and that he was just _fine_ , thank you.

The lady tutted at him and pulled at the sleeve of his T-shirt, cleaned and bandaged his arm, and then proceeded with wiping the blood off his face. She also spotted his hand and frowned hard at him when she realized that he had tried to conceal an injury, but when he shrugged helplessly her gaze softened and she cleaned and wrapped up the burn without further comment. When she was done, she nodded – looking pleased – and patted his shoulder.

“Everything okay, kid?”

Hopper walked around the back of the ambulance, a serious look on his face. Both of his forearms had been bandaged, and his pant leg was cut off just below the knee, revealing another white bandage. Billy didn’t think, but fell back on the sarcasm that came so easily to him when he replied, “I should be asking you that. You look like a mummy.”

He winced before he’d even stopped talking, and squeezed his eyes shut, grimacing.

“Sorry … sir.”

But when he looked up again, Hopper was smiling. The man looked haggard, like he hadn’t slept for days; he was unshaven and had a slightly swollen nose.

Which, _shit_.

“I’m …” Billy started, licking his lips. “I’m sorry I punched you. Before.”

“Yeah”, Hopper said and sat down next to him in the back of the ambulance. “That wasn’t fun. How about we don’t do that again?”

Billy nodded, but didn’t speak. The plump lady had disappeared – or more likely, given them their privacy. He decided to take a chance – there was no one here but him and Hopper, and if it didn’t work, he could blame it on the trauma or whatever later.

“How about I promise not to do that again, and you don’t expel me?”

At that, Hopper outright laughed. Then he reached over and _ruffled Billy’s hair_.

“I’ll think about it, kid.”

Billy didn’t know if that was a good answer or a bad one, and he honestly couldn’t be bothered to try to sort it out at this point. He was leaning toward good, though, and this theory was reinforced when Hopper put an arm around his shoulders and gave a little squeeze. It was probably supposed to be reassuring, but all it did was to make Billy have to suppress a wince.

“Come on”, Hopper said. “Let’s go check on Steve.”

Steve, unsurprisingly, had a concussion. He was sitting at the back of another ambulance, with a dark-haired male paramedic who was just finishing up wrapping a white bandage around his head. When Hopper asked how he was doing, the paramedic informed him that Steve was concussed and would have to go to the hospital.

“Good”, Steve murmured. “My head hurts.”

“Probably just phantom pains then”, Billy quipped and sat down heavily beside him. “You’ve always been brainless.”

Steve glanced at the bandage on his arm and gave a little snort. “You’re the one to talk, you goddamn maniac.”

“Hey!”

But Billy didn’t have time to continue their banter, because a shout made them all look up. The shout came from Dustin, who – along with the rest of the kids – were running toward them.

“Steve! Oh my god, Steve, are you okay?”

They flocked around the back of the ambulance, and Billy quickly got up and took a couple of steps so that he was standing on the sidelines, and tuning out the kids’ excited voices. The rest of the student body had apparently been released from the school, too, because suddenly they were all there, interspersed with armed military personnel who were trying to herd them in the right direction and tell them what to do.

Billy blew out air through his nose. He wished them good luck with that.

He saw Carol help Mr Clarke walk down the gravel road, and frowned at the man’s unsteady gait until he looked behind them, to where Flo and Cal were walking. Flo met his eyes and held up a half-empty mouthwash bottle, mouthing “good stuff” at him and giving him a thumbs up. Billy had no problems whatsoever imagining her pouring that stuff down Mr Clarke’s throat to keep him calm. It was a funny thing to imagine, and Billy let out a low laugh. That drew the attention of Hopper, who had apparently also backed away to let Steve deal with the kids. He looked over just in time to see Flo take a gulp out of the mouthwash bottle, still with her thumb in the air, and levelled Billy with a _look_.

“Hey, I have no idea where she got that …” Billy said, hands raised in the universal sign of ‘I am innocent in this’.

“Mm-hmm”, was Hopper’s unimpressed reply.

“No, really!” Billy continued, even though a part of him realized that he was digging himself deeper into a hole. “I gave you all the bottles, remember?”

“I remember you giving me _some_ bottles.”

Billy bit his lip and waited for Hopper to speak. When he spoke, it wasn’t what Billy expected to hear at all.

“I tried it, by the way.”

Billy’s raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yeah”, Hopper said, following Mr Clarke with his eyes and silently saluting Flo when she passed them. “That’s some powerful stuff. Feeling like sharing the recipe?”

Shrugging one shoulder, and wincing at what he was about to admit, Billy purposely didn’t look at Hopper when he replied.

“Four parts 100 proof Vodka, two parts Peppermint Schnapps for that mouthwash flavor, and one part Crème the Menthe to make it green. Making it look, smell and taste just like mouthwash.” A pause, in which Billy decided to hand over the final nail in his coffin in the name of honesty and goodwill. “Do you have any idea how much _actual mouthwash_ I’ve poured down the drain to get those bottles?”

At the addition, Hopper actually burst out laughing, making a couple of students who were walking past them look at him in confusion. Billy had to smile a little, too.

“You’re crazy, kid.”

“Yeah”, Billy said. “So I’ve been told.”

The kids were getting louder and more enthusiastic at the back of the ambulance, and a particularly loud outburst from Lucas made Hopper wince. Billy could only imagine how it would feel for Steve, who was the one who was not only closer in range, but who was also the one suffering from head trauma. Hopper took a deep breath and went to break up the happy reunion.

Jane took that opportunity to leave the little group. She walked up to Billy and stood in front of him, face solemn, and scratched at her arm with one hand. She didn’t say anything for a couple of long seconds, so Billy felt the need to break the silence.

“Sorry that you had to stay in the cellar for so long”, he said.

“Sorry that you got hurt”, Jane replied.

Billy’s first instinct was, and had always been, to deny it. “I’m okay.”

She didn’t reply, just gave him one of her little knowing smiles. He couldn’t help but smile back; too relieved that their crazy plan had worked and that none of them had died today.

“Billy!”

Max’s voice startled him out of his thoughts. He looked up to see her stride toward him, an angry scowl on her face. When she got within striking distance, she punched him hard in the arm – not the injured one, for which he was grateful – and started yelling at him.

“What the fuck, Billy? What were you thinking? We get down to that cellar and then the hatch closes and we can’t find you or Steve anywhere? Jane said that you _chose_ to stay up there? Why the _fuck_ would you do that?”

She hit him again, and Billy backed up a step. “Hey, language! And stop fucking hitting me, you little shit!”

She gave him a death glare, but her eyes were glossy. It made him uncomfortable. “Didn’t think you’d notice I was gone.” It came out sounding way less sarcastic than he had intended.

“You’re an asshole!” she exclaimed, and abruptly threw her arms around him, burying her face in his shirt.

For a second, he just stood there, with his arms out and mouth open, looking down at the top of her head. He had no idea what to do. Then, over the heads of the rest of the kids, he caught Steve looking at them – he raised his eyebrows and nodded meaningfully at Max as if to say ‘do something’. Slowly, Billy lowered his hands and rested them on her shoulders, giving her an awkward pat. He could feel her relax a little, but she didn’t let him go.

“You’re still an asshole”, she said, her words muffled by his shirt.

“And you’re still a little bitch”, he replied, without bite, and received a half-hearted punch in the arm for it. This time, it only made him smile. Her grip on him made him feel the bruises on his back, but it was an easy thing to ignore for now.

“Alright”, he heard Hopper say to the rest of the kids. “You guys go with the rest of your classmates, and follow the instructions you’re given. I’m sure you’ll be reuniting with your parents soon. I’ll make sure these two get to the hospital, and you’ll be able to visit them later.”

“Hospital?” Max said and frowned up at him.

“I don’t need to go to the hospital”, Billy tried.

“Dude”, Steve said, rubbing a hand over his face. “You got _shot_.”

That had all the kids explode with noise, making Billy and Steve both wince. Billy scowled at them and indicated the bandage on his arm. “It was a graze!”

“What about your back?” Steve said, raising his eyebrows, and Billy glowered at him; Steve really needed to learn when to shut up.

“What _about_ your back?” Hopper frowned and tried to peer around Billy.

“Nothing”, Billy said and turned so that his back was toward the side of the ambulance while trying to glare a hole in Steve’s forehead. “I’m fine.”

“If you don’t tell them, I will”, Steve said, the traitor.

Some of the kids opened their mouths to – no doubt – ask more questions or add their own two cents to the discussion, and Jonathan Byers had appeared by his little brother’s side, and Hopper looked around like he was searching for one of the paramedics, so Billy threw up his hands in defeat.

“Fine! I’ll go to the hospital!”

Hopper nodded, seemingly content. “Don’t make it sound like such a chore, Billy. One would think that you’d be happy to go there – if nothing else then to see Tommy.”

Both Billy’s and Steve’s heads snapped up at this.

“Tommy?” Steve said, eyes wide.

“Tommy’s _alive_?” Billy heard himself say, voice breathless.

“Uh yeah”, Hopper said and looked a little sheepish. “I guess I should have led with that, sorry.”

Billy and Steve exchanged a look, and then Billy jumped in the ambulance with Steve. “Okay, let’s go. Someone get Carol.”


	10. Chapter 10

Carol beat them to the hospital. Hopper saw her get out of a fancy black car as the ambulance drove into the hospital parking lot, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that her boyfriend’s family had sent a car for her.

Hopper sighed. They were just kids, and yet here they were, being involved with the mob and terrorists and being taken hostage … His own childhood hadn’t been the easiest, but somehow it paled in comparison to what had been going on for the last couple of days. He suspected that he’d have to hire a full-time psychiatrist after this, to help the kids deal with the trauma. Wherever he’d get the funding to do that …

He sent Billy and Steve off with a couple of nurses and a promise that they’d get to see Tommy as soon as they had been properly checked out, and then a hospital employee informed him that he had a call. He took it at the nurses’ station, and was entirely unsurprised when he heard Robert Crawford’s voice on the other end.

“Oh good, you’re there.”

“Yeah”, Hopper said drily. “’Good’, that I’m at a hospital with two of my students.”

“Better than the morgue”, came Crawford’s reply. “It went better than we could have expected, Mr Hopper. There were casualties, but they were all hostiles. Six of our men got hurt during the attack, but it seems that all of them will make it. _All_ of the hostages survived. Our men counted 89 people coming out of that cellar.” He paused, possibly for emphasis. “This is indeed _very good_.”

Hopper released a shaky breath and dragged a hand over his face. He wanted to sit down, but as he was lacking a chair, he did the next best thing and leaned over the desk instead.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m … I’m sorry. It’s just been … a lot, lately.”

“I can understand that.” A pause. “We’re very grateful for what you did, Mr Hopper – even though you didn’t stay put, as you were supposed to.” A dry chuckle. “But to be frank, it could have ended up a lot worse, if it wasn’t for you. You stopped Brenner.”

Hopper’s thoughts immediately went to the detonator, and the wires he cut, and because he needed to know, he asked, “So the bombs …?”

“Oh”, Crawford said. “Yeah, what you did would have disabled the detonator, Fred confirmed it.”

“’Would have’?”

“Yeah, it turns out that the chip-switching thing that the kids did actually worked. God knows how they managed it, honestly, but we’re all grateful for it. Which is kind of why I’m calling you. I need you to make sure those kids stay at the hospital until we’ve had time to debrief them.”

“Debrief?” Hopper stood up straight and frowned. “These kids need their rest–“

“I know, I know, they do, but we also need to know everything that happened. We have multiple terrorists in custody, and I don’t know if you’ve been watching the news, but just about every network in the country – and a lot from abroad, too – are hounding us for answers. So for the kids’ own sake, make sure they stay there, okay? I’ll send some people over, to keep the press at bay. I just need you to talk to their parents, and then stay in one place for a while. Make sure they’re okay – get some rest, make sure you eat something …”

Honestly, staying in one place for a while and getting some rest sounded like something that Hopper could definitely do right now.

“Yeah okay”, he said. “I can do that.”

“Good”, Crawford said. “And Hopper?”

“Yeah?”

“By shooting Brenner, you stopped him from killing those kids, and possibly from detonating those bombs. Well done.”

“Uh. Thanks.”

“I’ll be in touch. Let us take care of the rest for a while. Get some sleep. You’ve earned it.”

Hanging up, Hopper thanked the nearest nurse, who then dragged him to an examination room to get his wounds properly tended to. He wasn’t released from her clutches until she was satisfied that he’d been well taken care of, and even then, the first room he went to was Tommy’s.

Once he’d been let into the room – there were two serious-looking men in suits guarding the door, and only a nod from Tommy’s father made them let Hopper in – he found Carol by Tommy’s beside, leaning against him and holding his hand. Tommy himself was pale, but awake, and both kids looked up when he entered.

“Sir”, Tommy said and tried to scoot up in bed.

Hopper shook his head and held up his hand, and Carol put a hand on Tommy’s chest to stop him.

“No no”, Hopper said. “Stay. I was going to let you know that it’s over, but I take it you already know?” He indicated Carol with a nod.

“Yeah”, Tommy said, voice raspy. “Carol told me.”

Hopper nodded, and then smiled. “I’m glad to see you awake, Tommy. I’m sorry about what happened.”

Tommy shrugged as best as he could.

“I also wanted to let you know that your friends, Mr Harrington and Mr Hargrove, are also here at the hospital. They’ll probably visit you soon. Just a head’s up.”

At this, Tommy grinned, and even Carol smiled.

“Sounds good, sir.”

“All right”, Hopper said and nodded awkwardly. “I’ll be around for a while. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.” He turned to the door.

“Actually, sir …?” Carol’s voice made him halt in his steps as he turned back around to face her. “We were going to have an English test next week, but well, there hasn’t been much time to study … Any chance you can arrange for that to be postponed?”

Hopper let out a laugh. “That, I can do.” Both kids grinned. “Get some rest, okay? I’m glad you’re both all right.”

He was almost out the door when Tommy called after him, “Tell Hargrove to stay out of trouble!”

“Too late”, Hopper muttered under his breath, but nodded and said, louder, “Will do!”

He almost collided with Georgie Hill himself in the corridor outside, and was in the middle of apologizing when the man put a hand on his shoulder and said, voice serious, “I heard that you were the one to shoot Brenner.”

Hopper, caught off-guard – because how could this man have found out about that, already? – managed a not-very-articulate “Uhh, yeah?”

Hill Sr bowed his head in a nod, without breaking eye contact, and gave Hopper’s shoulder a little squeeze. “You have our thanks.”

How do you reply when someone thanks you for shooting a person? “I … yeah. No problem.” This was the second time in under ten minutes that someone had expressed gratitude for him taking a life. Hopper was too tired to deal with this right now. He nodded, somewhat unsteadily. “I should probably go … I have to call the … the parents.”

And once he had extricated himself from _that_ uncomfortable situation, that’s exactly what he did. He spent twenty minutes on the phone with Steve Harrington’s mother, explaining what had happened and getting increasingly frustrated at her excuses as to why she and her husband wouldn’t be able to come down there until the following week at the earliest. He had to take a ten minute break after that call, during which he located a cup of crappy hospital coffee and gulped it down angrily, before he felt stable enough to call Billy Hargrove’s father. And it was a good thing he did, because that call was even worse.

Hopper had spoken to Neil Hargrove before, and remembered thinking the man seemed strict, but during this call he changed his mind; Neil Hargrove was an _asshole_. Hopper began by telling the man what had happened, and that Billy had been hurt and was currently in the hospital, but as soon as he got to the part where he told the man not to worry because his son’s injuries weren’t that serious, Hargrove interrupted him.

“So he’s okay?”

“He was injured, but yes, he’s okay, it wasn’t–“

“Then thank you for calling, Mr Hopper. I appreciate it. Now I’m sorry, I have to go.”

“Wait! Don’t you … I mean, I’m sure he would appreciate if you’d–“

“I am a busy man, Mr Hopper. My wife is already there, for our daughter. She will check in with Billy soon, I’m sure.”

“But–“

“Please give my regards to my son.”

And with that, he hung up. Without asking for details about his son’s injuries, or what had happened, and even without a demand to speak with his own child to make sure he was really okay. Hopper stared at the phone, mouth open, before he was overwhelmed by anger on Billy’s behalf.

“Fucker!” he muttered and hung up the phone with more force than strictly necessary.

He could see the nurse who he’d sent Billy off with walking down the corridor, alone, and hurried to intercept her.

 

* * *

 

Steve had the mother of all headaches. It wasn’t _quite_ as bad as the hangover he’d struggled with the last time he’d been out-of-his-mind-drunk – when he’d sworn off partying for the foreseeable future – but it was close. Who knew a mild concussion would be such an inconvenience?

Something that _should_ be an inconvenience, but strangely _wasn’t_ , was the fact that Billy was sitting in a chair by his bedside, chatting away. Apparently, he hadn’t been hurt enough for the hospital to feel like they needed to keep him there, despite him being beaten, burned and _shot_ – even though Billy insisted that it had only been a graze. Steve, on the other hand, had received _one_ hit to the head (not counting the punch to the face from the guy in the bathroom) and been a _tiny_ bit strangled, and was told he’d probably be kept overnight for observation. He was maybe little bitter about it.

“Anyway”, Billy continued from whatever he’d been saying – Steve had been feeling too sorry for himself to pay attention. “The rockets went off without a hitch, and we still had to get out of there, but the ducts were filled with smoke, yeah? So we almost choked before we got out of there. And our clothes smelled like smoke when Mr Fredricksen caught us – luckily, we were in a whole other part of the school by then so he couldn’t pin it on us. Still got detention for smoking inside, though. And later, Hopper made me switch rooms.”

“Billy?” Steve said, and Billy looked at him. “What are you talking about?”

Billy sagged down where he was sitting, and made a face before he adjusted his pose so he wasn’t leaning his back on the back of the chair.

“I don’t know”, he said. “Does it matter? I’m trying to keep you awake.”

Steve leveled him with a look. “I’m not even sleepy.”

“Good. Because you have a concussion, so you shouldn’t sleep. Everyone knows that.”

Steve sighed and wished for a Tylenol or something. “I have a _mild_ concussion, and I’m pretty sure the nurse would have mentioned if I wasn’t allowed to sleep.”

Billy’s eyes narrowed, which told Steve that Billy wasn’t impressed with the nurse’s lack of instructions, but he only raised a shoulder in a half-shrug and fell silent.

The silence grew, but never actually got uncomfortable. Still, Steve was the first to speak, after a couple of minutes.

“What do you think is going to happen now?”

Billy shrugged again. “I don’t know. I doubt Hawkins is gonna reopen right away. We’ll probably have to go back home for a while.” Billy looked as excited about this as Steve felt, which was _not at all_. “If they even let us back there at all.”

Frowning, and regretting it when it sent a sharp jolt of pain through his head, Steve said, “What do you mean? They can’t just close the school in the middle of the school year!”

“No, I mean … if they don’t expel us.” Billy looked down at his hands. “Or … me.”

“Why would they expel us? Or _you_? We helped save the school and everyone in it!”

“Yeah, but … I was toeing the line even before this happened, you know? I’m pretty sure Hopper was looking for an excuse even before all of this happened.”

Steve waved his concerns away. “Hopper’s not gonna expel you for this. You did nothing wrong – for once!”

Billy grinned at the jab, but still didn’t look certain. “I don’t know. I was late for the count and almost got people killed. I came up with that crazy plan that could have gotten even more people killed. And – _aw shit_.”

Steve, who had been gearing up to counter Billy’s arguments, startled. “What?”

“First I almost got Jonathan shot, and then I was the reason why his little brother almost got hurt. Definitely the reason that he had a panic attack, anyway. You didn’t see Jonathan’s face before – he really _is_ going to kill me in my sleep.”

Steve actually laughed at this, even though it hurt. “First of all, didn’t we already agree on a switch? And second, you obviously don’t know Jonathan at all. He’d kill you while you’re awake, and make sure that you’re 100% aware of what is happening to you.”

That drew a laugh out of Billy, too. “True. Getting expelled might actually be the preferable outcome for me. At least that means I’ll live.”

“No one’s getting expelled”, came a voice from the doorway. When they looked up, they saw Hopper standing there, belatedly rapping his knuckles on the doorframe instead of the knocking on the door. “Or killed. What’s this about Jonathan killing anyone? He doesn’t seem like the killing type.”

Steve’s and Billy’s eyes met, and they burst into laughter.

“With all due respect, sir”, Steve said, “that’s because you don’t know Jonathan very well.”

Hopper raised his eyebrows as he sat down on the unoccupied chair by Steve’s bed. “Oh, and you do?”

Billy was the one to reply. “I’ve been sharing a room with him for months now. He would do anything to protect his family.”

“I know who he gets it from”, Hopper said with a small smile. “His mother is much the same.”

“Oh great, so she’s coming for my ass, too”, Billy muttered. “At this point, they’ll have to get in line.” He winced, and tried to cover it up with a grin, but judging by the look Hopper threw Steve’s way, he wasn’t fooling anyone.

“How are you boys doing?” Hopper asked, changing the subject.

“Concussion”, Steve answered and pointed to the bandage wrapped around his head.

“Fine”, Billy said and didn’t elaborate.

Hopper turned toward him and looked – really _looked_ – at him. Steve did the same. Billy had a bandage around his arm, a band-aid on his cheek and a smaller bandage wrapped around his hand. He was sitting straight up in the chair, and had been since Hopper entered the room, probably so that he wouldn’t accidentally have anything touch his back.

“Mm-hmm”, Hopper said, unconvinced. “And your back isn’t bothering you at all?”

Billy shrugged, and it looked almost real. “Nope.”

Hopper sighed, and looked from Billy to Steve and back again. “I spoke to your nurse. Normally, they’re not allowed to give out details of a patient’s injuries, but as you are still a minor and temporarily under my care–“

He saw their looks of confusion, and explained, “Your parents had to sign papers when you were admitted to the school. To save time if something happened and we couldn’t get a hold of them.”

Billy was frowning now.

“Anyway”, Hopper continued. “I know that you’re hurt.” He held up a hand to stop Billy from denying it, and continued, “I _also_ know that they’ve deemed you well enough not to admit you, which is why we’re not having a conversation about lying to your elders right now.” He shook his head, possibly to get back on track. “My point is that I know. And that I want you to tell me if you’re hurting in the next couple of days.”

“Sir?”

Hopper dragged a hand over his face and looked at them both, this time. “I’ve spoken with your parents.”

This made Steve frown, and Billy sat up impossibly straighter in his chair.

“They have informed me … that they are currently unable to …”

Steve snorted and smiled – a smile that even he could feel didn’t reach his eyes. “They’re too busy, aren’t they?”

Hopper nodded. “Yeah, basically.” Then he clapped his hands together, making Billy jump and Steve grimace at the pain the noise brought. “So here’s what’s going to happen. Tonight or tomorrow morning, parts of the school will be opened again, for whoever wants to attend. Classes won’t resume until the middle of next week for those who choose to come back, so there will be an adjustment period.”

He grinned. “Consider it a vacation, of sorts. Anyway, you two – seeing as your parents have left you in the care of our school–“ At this, he pointed at himself with his thumbs. “–which means me, by the way – anyway, you two will come back to Hawkins with me once you’ve been discharged from the hospital.”

Steve glanced at Billy, who glanced back. “And no classes until next week?”

“Oh, there will be a lot to be done, I imagine. A lot of cleaning up, and getting the school ready for the students’ return. Just no classes.” He looked between the both of them. “So what do you say?”

Perhaps to sweeten the deal, but really just making Steve wonder how long he was listening in before he made his presence known, Hopper added, “And I won’t be too strict about assigned roommates during this time, considering everything that’s happened. It’s supposed to be a vacation, after all.”

Billy glanced at Steve and lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I mean. I don’t have anywhere else to be, so …”

Steve shrugged too. “Yeah, count me in. Just, no early mornings, please?”

At this, Hopper laughed and rose from his chair. “I think you’ve earned the right to sleep in for a few days.”

He rose from his chair and looked like he would say something, or maybe take his leave, when there was the sound of familiar voices coming from the corridor, and in the next moment a bunch of people burst into the room.

“You’re alive!” Dustin exclaimed and ran up to Steve’s bed and put both his hands on each side of Steve’s face before Steve had a chance to answer. “I’m so glad to see you, buddy.”

“Lay off him, kid”, Billy said from beside him and swatted Dustin’s hands away. “He’s concussed.”

Dustin snarked back, but Steve wasn’t listening. He was scooting up in bed, because the room was suddenly full of people – besides Dustin, both Jane, Max and Will were there, along with Mrs Henderson, Max’s mom, Mrs Byers and Jonathan. There was also a nurse who was trying to shoo them out of there, but Hopper was currently talking to her; no doubt trying to convince her that it was okay to bend the rules a little in this particular case.

Steve gaped, a little overwhelmed and self-conscious of the way he was the only one currently in a hospital bed. Dustin saw, and mistook the look on his face.

“Oh yeah, Mike and Lucas wanted to come too but their parents said that it’d be too much and that they could come visit later.”

Steve raised his eyebrows. “Uh, actually I don’t think we’ll stay here for long enough for them to visit? Hopefully.”

“Really?” Dustin grinned, and his whole face lit up. “You’re getting out of here?”

“When he gets a clean bill of health”, Billy added, somewhat absent-mindedly, while facing Max and her mom. “Hi Susan.”

“Oh Billy”, the woman – apparently named Susan – said, and made an aborted motion before seemingly throwing caution to the wind and giving him a hug. Steve wanted to laugh at the look of incredulity on Billy’s face, especially when Max was standing off to the side, grinning smugly.

Once Billy had extricated himself from her, he licked his lips and opened his mouth to speak, but that’s when Mrs Byers came up to him and threw her arms around him, too. If his face before had been surprised, it was nothing compared to the confused disbelief that he was currently displaying. Steve had to look away so he wouldn’t burst into laughter – unfortunately he looked straight at Jonathan, who seemed to have a similar problem. Both of them snorted in amusement, as Mrs Byers squeezed Billy tight and said, “My boys told me what you did, and it was so stupid, but so brave, and you saved a lot of people. Thank you.”

It might have been her words, and it might have been how tightly she was holding on, but Billy’s face was turning red.

When she let go of him, she turned her attentions on Steve, and he found himself with an armful of Mrs Byers – who was holding on much tighter than he would have expected from such a tiny woman. “You too, Steve. Thank you so much for what you did, for my boys and for everyone else.”

Steve cleared his throat and scratched at the back of his head awkwardly when she let go. “No problem, Mrs Byers.”

“It’s Joyce, hon.”

Steve gave a small smile, and saw in the corner of his eye that Dustin’s mom was now the one hugging a noticeable uncomfortable Billy.

“Joyce, then. No problem.”

Joyce moved on to hugging her sons, perhaps to reassure herself that they were safe, and then went to stand off to the side with Hopper. Steve didn’t have time to figure out what they were talking about, because Mrs Henderson was also apparently on a hugging spree, and it was Steve’s turn.

“Oh Steve, Dustin told me how brave you were! I always knew you were such a good boy. But getting yourself hurt like this? You shouldn’t take so many risks. But I’m so grateful to you for taking care of Dustin during all of this, I’m so grateful!”

She didn’t let go, so Steve found himself patting her back while locking eyes with Billy over her shoulder. Billy gave a sharp grin as if to say ‘I suffered through it, now you have to do it too’.

When she finally backed away (and pulled Dustin in close for another bone-crushing hug), Jonathan appeared by the bed. He looked from Billy to Steve and back again, and no one spoke until Jonathan said, drily, “I’m not hugging you”.

That made both Steve and Billy bark out a laugh, and Jonathan turned to Steve. “Nancy says hi, and to get better soon because she’s gonna yell at you later.”

Steve grimaced. Nancy had been away on the same trip as Timmy, so she had thankfully not been in the school when it got taken over – he shuddered at the thought of her being mixed up with the terrorists. She was small, but badass, and he wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d somehow ended up in the thick of it all, if she’d been there.

“Looking forward to it”, he lied. Judging by the looks on Jonathan’s and Billy’s faces, he wasn’t fooling anyone.

Max, Will, Jane and Dustin had inched closer to them, while their parents hung back by the door, talking among themselves. None of the kids seemed to be of a mind to go for a hug though, which Steve was grateful for. Dustin and Will stood on one side of the bed with Jonathan, and Max and Jane on the other side, with Billy – and if Max was standing close enough that her arm was touching Billy’s, then that was almost certainly a coincidence. And if Billy allowed it, well. Perhaps he was too tired to notice, or care.

Steve found himself smiling, nonetheless. Then he frowned. “Why are you all standing around, just looking at me? I feel like a corpse at a funeral!”

“That’s because you look like one”, Billy quipped, and yelped when Max turned and slapped him on the shoulder. “Ow! What, he does!”

“Okay!” Hopper’s voice cut through the room and drew everyone’s attention. “I promised the nice nurse that we’d only be a while, and I think it’s time Steve gets some rest.”

“I’m _okay_!”

“Even so”, Hopper said and nodded to the mothers in the room. “I’m sure these ladies would like to take their children home now, when they’ve made sure that the heroes of the day are unharmed.”

Steve could feel himself blushing, and Billy clenched his jaw and looked away. But Mrs Byers laughed and put a tiny hand on the side of Hopper’s face and gave him a smile.

“Don’t think that we’re not counting you as one as well, Hop. We know what you did, too.”

Hopper, to Steve’s absolute delight, floundered for a second, and had to clear his throat before he drew himself up and continued. “Yeah, well, she’ll come back with security if we don’t empty this room soon. So please, ladies, if we could continue this little reunion later …”

Mrs Byers beckoned her sons to her and bid them all a speedy recovery, Mrs Henderson looked like she would go in for a second round of hugs before Dustin yelled a quick “Okay, see you later!” and pulled her out of there, and Susan nodded at Billy and put her arm around Max’s shoulders and gently steered her out of the room. For a moment, Billy looked indecisive, as if he didn’t know if he should follow them or not, but in the end he just sank back down in his chair – leaning slightly over the armrest, to take the pressure off his back.

Steve took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second. Having everyone show up just because they wanted to make sure they were okay had been nice, but his head was killing him. And as if he was projecting these thoughts, Billy poked him in the shoulder and asked, “How’s the head?”

“Still attached”, Steve smiled and opened his eyes. “Although I think it’s broken.”

“Yeah”, Billy drawled. “I’ve been thinking the same thing since I met you.”

Jane, who still hadn’t left, frowned a little at that. “You should be nice to him.”

Billy opened his eyes wide and gestured with his hand. “I _am_ being nice! Harrington, tell her!”

Laughing despite his headache, Steve nodded. “Yeah, Jane. Believe it or not, this is actually Billy being nice.”

She seemed to take his word for it, and turned when Hopper came up to them and put a hand on her shoulder. “Now young lady, you and I are going to have a long talk about running away from government personnel when we get back to school.”

She didn’t look intimidated in the least – probably because she knew she had him wrapped around her finger. Hopper turned his attention back on Steve and Billy.

“I know there are some people who are going to want to talk to you soon – ask you about everything that happened during the last few days. I’ve been asked to make sure you stay here until they’ve had the chance to talk to you.” He held up a hand when it looked like Billy was going to complain. “But I’ve been assured you’ll be able to leave tonight, or –“ He turned to Steve, “– in your case, whenever the doctors deem you well enough to leave. So we’ll just hang around here until then, okay?”

Steve sighed. He didn’t really like to hang out in hospitals. “Yeah, sure.”

Hopper nodded, and then walked over to the door. “They never said we had to stay in one room, though.”

That caught both of their attention, and Hopper continued, “Now, I believe I promised to take you to see Tommy? If you’re up for it?”

Honestly, even if Steve had had his head split open, he’d still have wanted to make sure that Tommy was all right. The two of them might have grown apart lately, but being taken hostage together really strengthened the bonds between people. Just look at him and Billy. Only a couple of days ago, they were at each other’s throats, and now?

Billy stood up, stretched carefully, and held out a hand for him to grab. “Coming, Harrington?”

Steve smiled and accepted the help. “Yeah. Coming.”

**Author's Note:**

> Here is an incomplete list of things I don’t know: how American private schools work, how bombs work, medical jargon and how wounds are treated, technical stuff, military grades & titles, how American government and hostage situations work, the age groups of classes in American schools, whether panic attacks were a thing in the 80's, and anything about radio controlled airplanes.


End file.
